Deliverance
by leyapearl
Summary: Suffering from amnesia, Frank struggles to remember details of the brothers' latest job - keeping the granddaughter of a former N. Korean nuclear scientist safe from kidnapping. But is all what it seems? Encrypted series.
1. One

_End of October_

_Thursday night 9pm  
_

* * *

/Joe, I'm cold./ The dark-skinned boy's hands shook as he signed the words.

"Come here," Joe whispered. He opened his arms, and the boy scuttled over, leaning against Joe's chest. "That better?" The boy nodded, his eyes wide and frightened. Joe turned his head to the side. "Sunny, you okay?" He kept his voice low.

"F.. Fine." The teenaged girl sat with her back to him, tension radiating off her shoulders, her response barely audible.

"Why don't you come over here with Benj and me? We'll all stay warmer this way."

"F.. For him. N.. not y.. you." Her nearly eighteen-year-old features held disdain, but Joe could hear the fear that lay under the dismissive words. After a long minute she climbed over Joe's knees – keeping as much distance between them as was possible in the tight space – and settled herself on the other side of the boy, gently touching his cheek with one gloved hand. "Y.. You all r..right, k.. kidlet?" Her stutter was getting worse, and Joe found himself wondering if it was stress or the cold.

/Yes./ Benj shifted toward her. /How long do we have to stay here?/

"G.. Good q.. question." Sunny turned to Joe, her eyebrows raised, her jaw clenched. "Got an answer?" Anger smoothed out her speech.

"I'm not sure." Joe let out a breath, trying to keep his voice from betraying the concern he felt. "We need to give Frank some time. He'll double back as soon as it's safe."

"D.. don't t.. tell me. _N.. now_ y.. you t..trust him." Sunny's voice dripped skepticism.

Joe nodded, tightening his hold on the child in his arms. "With my life."

The girl snorted derisively. "R.. right. T.. tell me an.. another one."

"_I trust Frank completely_. Always have, always will." He paused for a moment, gritting his teeth against the throbbing in his ankle. "He's my brother." Both children turned to look at him, astonishment in their eyes. Benj's hands flew, making words faster than Joe could translate. "Slow down, buddy. I'm not getting all that."

Sunny placed her hands over Benj's, stopping the flow of words. "H.. he's right. There's n.. no way. Y.. you two h.. hate each other."

"It's an act." Joe held their eyes. "My real name is Joe Hardy. Frank and I are private detectives. We're here on a case."

Benj freed his hands from Sunny's grasp. /A case? Doing what?/

Joe let out a long breath. "We were hired to protect you."

Sunny's almond-shaped eyes grew wide. "P.. protect us?"

Benj's cheeks paled. /From who?/

"_I don't know_. From whoever it is that's now chasing Frank." Joe heard the sharp tone emanating from his lips and immediately regretted it. He swallowed and closed his eyes. "Sorry." He opened his eyes and forced a note of calmness into his voice. "Look, we're gonna need to sit tight for a bit. I'll get you out of here and somewhere warm as soon as I can." The sound of raindrops splashing on rocks sounded from above them. "For right now, we'll stay here where it's safe and dry." He winced as the pain in his ankle made itself known again. "Let's get some rest. We could be here for a while."

Benj leaned back against him, shivering slightly. Sunny inched closer to the younger boy, resting an arm on his shoulders. "J.. Joe?" Joe looked at her over Benj's head. "He'll b.. be okay, r.. right?"

Joe nodded. "Of course. Frank's a professional." Sunny turned away to watch the rain fall, satisfied with the answer. Joe's eyes grew distant as he stared at the rocks protecting them both from the rain and anyone who might be looking for them. _He damn well better be..._

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Friday morning 9am_

* * *

"Frank, can you hear me? Frank? Open your eyes."

The words rang in Frank's ears. He tried to move his head in the direction of the voice and was vaguely concerned when found he couldn't. Moving his shoulders didn't work either, nor could he move his legs. _Paralyzed?_ The thought flitted through his mind. _No. Can feel my toes. Legs are wet. Rain? Where...?_ A groan escaped his lips.

"Travis, be careful!"

"I am being careful. Do you want him warm or not? Hand me that blanket." The man's voice was farther away but sounded exasperated and worried.

"Of course I do. Just be careful." The girl's voice was commanding and firm, as if she was used to having her orders obeyed without question. It echoed in Frank's ears, making it sound like she was speaking inside a tunnel. "Frank, please. _Open your eyes_. I need to know you're okay."

Frank struggled to do what she asked, fighting against the smothering darkness. "What... happened?" It was hard to talk. He became aware of the cold, his wet clothes sticking to his skin, his teeth starting to chatter.

"I think he said something." Light pressure on his chest. A hand? "Frank?" He groaned again, pain shooting through his body. "You're going to be all right." The girl's voice sounded as though she were trying hard to convince herself of this. "You're hurt. We're trying not to jostle you too much." A pause. "Was Joe with you? And the others?"

_Joe? _This thought forced Frank's eyes open. Sunlight bore into his head like a laser, making his head hurt even more. No matter how hard he tried to focus, everything was blurry; the chattering of his teeth didn't help. He squinted at the figure closest to him – the girl – but couldn't make out her features. He blinked, hoping his vision would start cooperating, and slowly details became more clear. "What... happened?" he asked again. Talking hurt. Scratch that. Everything hurt. It was hard to breathe. Cracked ribs? Probably. Definitely something with his left shoulder and his right leg. And his head. At the least, a concussion. _Hopefully not...fractured skull._ It was hard to think straight.

"You've been... injured. We're waiting for an ambulance." There was something in the girl's words that let Frank know she wasn't telling him the whole truth. Not lying exactly. More like concealing something. "Frank, I need you to concentrate. Where's Joe? Was he with you?" It sounded like there was a tremor in her voice. "Can you tell me anything?"

Although the faces near him were still hard to make out, the trees overhead came into focus, wind whipping their branches around. Their motion made his head spin. Frank let his eyes close and concentrated on breathing, trying to fight off rising nausea. When he opened them again, he could just make out the girl's face. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail, but wisps had escaped the hair band and curled above her ears. Concerned brown eyes were trained on his face, and her small, almost delicate, features were hardened with tension. Frank figured she couldn't be more than five feet and a couple inches, but the hand gripping his was strong, and even with his brain disoriented, he noted her commanding presence. "Thirsty," he muttered.

She looked at him, the concern in her eyes growing stronger. "I'm sorry. We can't give you anything. Not until you get checked out." Frank tried to nod, but the motion was cut off by whatever kept his head in place. "Frank, please, was Joe with you?"

The intensity of her gaze hurt. Frank closed his eyes again and breathed out. "Don't know," he whispered. The enveloping cold was making it hard to concentrate. "Don't.. remember." He paused. "Need water."

"I can't give you water, Frank. What _do_ you remember? Why were you out here?"

Frank tried to think back. Where was he? He could see trees. There was a feeling of falling, voices yelling, then nothing. Had he been hiking? He could feel boots on his feet, not sneakers – another indication he wasn't paralyzed; he never hiked without boots, not since his last badly sprained ankle. The confusion in his brain scattered his thoughts like shattered pieces of glass. "I... I don't know," he repeated, his voice dropping.

She blew out a worried breath. "Okay, while you're getting looked at, Travis and I can go over your notes. Is your laptop at the school? Or did you leave it with Chet?"

"Why... would Chet...?"

"You didn't leave it in the dorm, did you?" She seemed surprised. "Were you encrypting your notes? If you were using the same code, we can start deciphering them while the doctors are checking you out."

Frank opened his eyes and turned his head gingerly back so he could see her face. "Code?" The chattering of his teeth was making his head pound. "Who's... 'we'?"

"The team. Me, Travis..." Her voice faltered at the look on his face. "Frank?"

His throat was dry, and waves of pain coursed through his body. The pounding in his head was getting worse. "I... don't… know..." The words slurred as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain that was threatening to overwhelm him. "Really... thirsty. Please..." Then the darkness reached back up, smothering him. Everything went black.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Pain in his right arm. A needle? No, an IV. Frank could hear scissors near his chest. Someone was cutting off his jacket and shirt. Sensors were attached to his chest, and a cuff had been placed on his right arm above the IV. Something was clamped to his index finger. Then the beeping noises started. It was hard to block out all the noises so he could rest. When he was finally able to block it all out, someone tapped his shoulder, forcing him awake. "What's your name?"

"Who... who are you?" He struggled to focus his eyes on the person talking.

"I need you to answer the question, son."

"I'm thirsty. Can I have some water?"

"I can give you some ice chips after you answer my questions." A male voice, concern fighting with amusement in his tone. "Full name, please."

"Franklin John Hardy. Some water, please?"

A chuckle. "At least you're polite. Do you know where you are, Frank?"

Frank sighed. No one seemed to understand how thirsty he was. He hadn't had anything to drink since... Well, for a long time. "Hospital."

The man nodded. "And do you know what day it is?"

Frank closed his eyes and screwed up his face. What day it was? Could these questions get any more annoying? He sighed. "It was... Thursday. Could be Friday now. What time is it?"

This time there was a barking laugh. "Okay, you have a point." The person attached to the voice grabbed his hands. "Squeeze my hands as hard as you can." Frank complied. "Good. Now open your eyes wide." A flashlight waved across each eye. "Good. You can rest now."

"Water?"

"And here I was hoping you'd forget that. Ice chips." A few chips were spooned into his mouth. "Now go back to sleep, son. We'll do this all over again in a few hours."

Frank closed his eyes and slept.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Saturday morning 2am_

* * *

"Is it normal for them to be in the hospital this much?" The voice hovered on the edge of Frank's consciousness. There was something vaguely familiar about it, but he couldn't place it. There was a name and a face that were just out of reach. "I was hoping the last time was something uncommon."

"Unfortunately, no. They're on a first name basis with the ER nurses at Downtown Hospital. There was even talk about naming a wing after them back in Bayport," a second voice said, caught between worry and amusement. This one he knew.

"Chet?" Frank cracked his eyes open. "What're you...?"

A relieved grin covered Chet's face as it came into focus. "Oh, man. You really had us going, Frank. Are you okay?"

"What happened?"

How had Chet gotten here? And there was something... odd about him. He looked... different somehow. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting with his confused brain to try to figure out what it was.

"Frank, you still there?" An edge of worry had worked its way into Chet's voice. Frank forced his eyes open and gave a slight nod, something around his neck making the motion more difficult than usual. "Good."

A red-haired man in a lab coat came up to the bed, his brown eyes showing concern. His name tag read 'Dr. Robert Finley.' "Well, Frank, I wasn't expecting to see you again and certainly not here. How are you feeling?" The man looked at Frank as if he expected a warm greeting.

"Battered. Confused." Cautious answers seemed best for now.

"Unsurprising," the doctor said. "What does surprise me is that your brother isn't here." Frank saw Chet give the man a barely perceptible head shake. The doctor pretended he hadn't noticed and took a small flashlight from his pocket. "In any case, let's take a look at you." Dr. Finley checked Frank's pupils and vital signs, then moved on to the inevitable questions. "Your name?"

"Frank Hardy."

"Do you know where you are?"

"Hospital."

"Do you know this gentleman?"

"Chet Morton." Frank's eyes went back to Chet's face. There was definitely something different. Chet looked thinner, but there was something else as well. Something he couldn't put his finger on. He turned back to the doctor, hoping it would come to him.

"Do you know what today is?"

Frank thought. "I don't know how long I was out. Is it still Friday?"

"Saturday at this point," Dr. Finley responded. "You were unconscious for quite some time."

Frank swallowed. "Is there any water? My throat's dry."

"None of the scans are indicating surgery, so I guess it's all right for you to drink." The doctor held a styrofoam cup with a bendy straw up to Frank's lips.

"Thanks." He took a mouthful of liquid, then swallowed, his parched throat feeling better almost immediately.

"I imagine you have some questions for us," the doctor said, placing the cup back on a nearby table.

"What's the damage?"

Chet grimaced at him from across the room. "Top to bottom? Or order of importance?"

"Top to bottom."

Dr. Finley took a quick peek at his tablet computer. "Concussion – a minor skull fracture over your left ear, cracked collar bone, dislocated left shoulder, three broken ribs, right leg broken in two places." He let out a breath. "Extensive bruising and mild hypothermia."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "Why can't I move my head?."

"Collar." The doctor mimicked a collar with his hands. "We needed you awake to make sure there's no additional neck damage before we can take it off." The doctor's face started swimming. "Frank?"

"What?" A headache was forming over his left eye, pounding a drum cadence in his head.

Dr. Finley's expression grew serious. "Frank, are you all right?"

"No. Head... hurts." He groaned. "Thirsty." Through barely opened eyes, Frank watched as the doctor pressed the call button on the side of his bed. Seconds later a nurse came in and used a syringe to force something into his IV. The pain diminished almost immediately, and his body relaxed. "Thanks," he muttered.

The doctor spoke quietly to Chet for a few moments, then turned back to the bed. "Frank, I'm going to have the on-call neurologist check your CT scans to see if there's anything they missed. I'll be back in little while."

Frank didn't hear him leave.

When he next opened his eyes, Chet was dozing in the chair beside the bed. From the shadows in the room, it looked to be about early morning, the sun just about to rise. Frank shifted, sucking in a painful breath, his ribs complaining about the movement.

"Frank?" Chet was on his feet instantaneously. "What do you need?"

"Drink." The straw was back at his lips. "Thank you." He took a deep breath. "Chet, what are you doing here?"

"What do you mean?" Frank watched as he sat back down on the edge of the chair. "Where else would I be? You guys need me to take care of you, so here I am."

There was something about the way Chet said this that Frank couldn't put his finger on. He sighed, his brain feeling like scrambled eggs. "Why was the doctor expecting Joe? Is he here?"

Chet's eyes grew troubled. "Not _here_ here. Kara's frantic."

Frank tried to shake his head, thwarted by the collar, confused. "I don't even know what happened to me."

"Kara and Travis found you on the bottom of a mountain."

Frank's eyes widened. _A mountain? _And those names. He knew they meant danger.

"You don't remember anything?" Disappointment dripped from Chet's voice. "Kara was hoping you could give her something..."

The door opened, and Dr. Finley entered the room. Frank glanced at him but kept his attention focused on Chet. "Why would Joe be here? Are we working on a case? He should be at school."

"We checked the school," Chet said, his voice hollow. "He's not there."

Frank could feel his head starting to pound again. Dr. Finley took Frank's right hand, checking his pulse. Frank ignored him. "But it's mid-term. He's got exams. And you keep mentioning this Kara. Who is she?" Chet grew pale, his eyes shifting to the doctor. Frank's eyes narrowed as he examined Chet, finally realizing what was so different about his friend. "Wait, your hair's long. You had a buzz cut when the semester started. It's only the end of October. There's no way..."

Dr. Finley exchanged a glance with Chet, and let go of Frank's wrist, drawing Frank's attention. "Frank, what school does Joe attend?" His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of concern in the words.

"NYU. He should be there, not here." Frank was starting to feel panicked, the monitors beeping shrilly as his heart picked up speed.

The doctor's voice was calm. "Where's here?"

"Utica, New York." From the corner of his eye, he saw Chet's hands flexing. "I go to Utica College. Isn't that where we are?"

"What's your major?"

"Double major – Criminal Justice and Computer Science." A sudden irrational anger flooded through him. "Why's everyone asking about Joe? And what is _Chet_ doing here?" he roared, the noise of his voice echoing in his head. The headache came back in full force, and Frank felt like there were jackhammers running behind his eyes. Alarms started beeping around his head, the noise agitating him even more.

"Frank, you need to calm down." Dr. Finley's brown eyes were guarded. A nurse entered the room, and the doctor nodded at her. She moved to Frank's side, her hands doing something he couldn't see.

Exhaustion suddenly flooded through him, making him go limp, the pain in his head subsiding. The nurse moved away, pocketing a now-empty syringe, a grim expression on her face. Frank moved his eyes back to the doctor, realizing there had been another question. "What?"

"What semester is it, Frank? And what year are you?" The doctor's features were starting to blur.

"Fall," he whispered. "Fall semester. Senior year." He let out a short breath, closed his eyes, and fell back asleep.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Saturday morning 10am_

* * *

The next time he awoke, the girl from the woods was sitting beside him in Chet's chair. "How are you feeling?" Her voice was dry. She was trying to sound professionally detached, but Frank could hear the slight note of panic under the words, could see the worry lines etched on her forehead.

"Kara?" Hope flared in her eyes, then faded as she realized Frank was verifying her identity, that there was no look of recognition in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, embarrassed. "I'm a little confused right now. How do we know each other?" The way she carried herself practically screamed law enforcement. From Chet's earlier reaction, he had the impression they were close, and a small voice in the back of his head insisted he had trusted her with his life more than once. He found himself praying they weren't involved. Even if he couldn't remember her, the thought of causing her that kind of pain hurt him.

"We've worked together on and off for the last number of years." She swallowed and set her jaw before continuing. "My office calls you in to consult on occasion. You've gone undercover for us a number of times. Your skill set is... rather specialized. It comes in handy when we need someone who won't be recognized as being one of us."

Frank looked out the window for a long moment. "Who's 'us'?"

"The FBI. Primarily you've worked with my team. My partner, Travis, was with me when I traced you. There are other... connections, as well." Her voice shook on the last part. "You really don't remember?"

He shook his head as much as the collar around his neck would allow. "Were we working together on a case?"

Kara's lips pressed together. "Sort of. I recommended you and Joe to Dr. Park. You've been working undercover here for a couple of months."

"Joe's involved?" Did she flinch when he said his brother's name? It could have been a trick of the light. "And where's here?"

"Right now you're in Baystate Medical Center in Springfield, Massachusetts. It was the closest trauma center. You've been working as teachers at Pocumtuck Academy." Her eyes were guarded, careful. "This isn't ringing any bells at all?"

He let out a breath. "I'm sorry. My brain feels like Swiss cheese. I'm not even positive if I'm awake right now. Nothing feels real."

The door swung open, and Chet walked back in carrying a tray of food. "Good, he's up," he said. "You okay, boss?"

"Boss?" Frank eyed Chet suspiciously.

Kara turned to Chet, shaking her head as he put the tray on the table by Frank's bed. "He still doesn't remember anything." Her voice was flat, but there was an undercurrent of anxiety. A beeping noise filled the air, and Kara pulled a small phone from her pocket. "It's the district office," she said. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Frank watched her leave, letting the door close behind her before turning back to Chet. "There's something she's not telling me," he said. "What is it? And what do you mean, 'boss'?" The anger was starting again, making him want to throw something.

Chet picked up a cookie from the tray. "I work for you and Joe. Have for the last couple of years. I'm the office manager at your agency." He unwrapped the cookie, then put it back down. "And Kara's not just an FBI contact." He looked Frank straight in the eye. "She's Joe's girlfriend."

Frank's eyebrows rose, the anger dissipating as surprised shock took over his system. "Really? His taste in women must have changed in... How long are we talking?" His tone was light, but there was no answering smile from his friend, just a furrowed brow. Chet was hiding something as well. Frank stared at him, trying to force his brain to make the simple connections it normally could without any effort, and gasped as the meaning behind some of the things he'd heard suddenly came clear. "He's missing. Joe's missing." Frank felt a sudden dizziness and knew it had nothing to do with his concussion. "That's why everyone keeps asking me about him."

"With the kid you were hired to protect," Chet added. "The teenaged granddaughter of a former North Korean nuclear physicist. And at least one other kid from the school." He paused and stared down at the cookie. "Kara managed to get them to hold off issuing an Amber alert until you regained consciousness to see what you could tell us."

"And instead I think it's... How much of my memory have I lost?"

Chet thought for a moment. "You said senior year of college, right?"

Frank nodded, his expression wary. "The last thing I remember is taking my computer programming mid-term."

"About five years."

The air whooshed out of Frank's lungs, sending the room spinning. He closed his eyes, trying to regain his equilibrium. _Five years? _ _How could I lose five years?_

"Are you all right?" Chet's voice was full of concern. "Frank?"

Frank swallowed, then opened his eyes. "I'm okay. Just... overwhelmed." His right hand tore at the bedsheets in frustration. He needed something else to concentrate on, something to calm the whirling thoughts in his mind. "Chet, you said something about a mountain."

His friend nodded. "Goat Peak. It's part of Mount Tom. You were at the bottom of it. You were hooked up with some kind of a GPS tracking device, and when it stopped broadcasting, Kara and Travis went looking for you." He swallowed. "At first they thought you'd had an accident, that you'd gone off on your own and slipped and fell."

"At first?"

"Those bruises Dr. Finley mentioned?" Chet looked uncomfortable. "There's a clear one on your chest. It's shaped like a boot." He paused. "You were pushed, Frank. Someone tried to kill you."

Frank leaned back on the pillows, stifling a moan as he jostled his shoulder. "And they've got Joe."

Chet unwrapped the cookie and broke off a small piece. "We don't know. It's possible."

"Do we have any idea how long he's been gone?"

"Headmaster Whitman said you left Thursday morning. The hike's an annual field trip. The last time anyone saw you, Joe, or the kids was around ten in the morning." He looked at the cookie in his hand, then put it down and pushed it away. "They didn't figure out you hadn't come back until dinner, when they had four empty seats."

The door pushed open, and Kara walked back into the room, shoving her phone back in her pocket. "They're giving us twenty-four hours." She shook her head. "It better be enough."

"Kara." Frank looked at her. "Tell me about the case. Start from the beginning. Maybe it will jog my memory."

She regarded him carefully, her lips pressed together, calculating how much information he could absorb. Finally, she sighed and sat back down in the chair by his bed. "I can tell you what I know about how you got involved and what Joe reported to me once you were at Pocumtuck. I hope it's enough." She sighed. "It started last August..."


	2. Two

_Last August  
_

* * *

"Did Kara tell you any details about the case?" Frank asked. He stood facing the window using his reflection to straighten his tie.

"Just the phone call last night to say she's bringing someone in. Another protection detail. Hush-hush client. She hasn't been around the last few days," Joe said, two fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, which he was sure was going to choke him. "She had to go to Boston for some family thing. Whoever it is, they better be worth wearing the monkey suit." He shifted from side to side, noting with displeasure the looseness of his jacket on his frame. A quick glance in the window confirmed his fears. He looked like a kid wearing his older brother's clothes. He grimaced. _Great. Just the image I want to project. I look like an amateur._

Frank finished fussing with his tie, buttoned his jacket, and sat on the front of his desk. He reached one hand back for his coffee and drank the last swallow, making a face at its tepid temperature. "With any luck it'll at least be less eventful than..."

"_Don't_ say it," Joe warned, his hand moving unconsciously to his left shoulder. "I jinxed the last one by saying it." He flushed – irritated as he realized what he was doing – and shifted his hand, trying to make it look as if he was brushing some lint from his jacket. "Besides, you at least ended up with a girlfriend out of the deal," he said, a note of complaint in his voice. "All I got was shot." His eyes flickered towards Frank, and he swore internally as his brother's expression darkened. _Crap. Wrong thing to say,_ he thought. _Time to lighten the mood._ He pasted a goofy expression on his face. "Hey, that would make a cool t-shirt slogan. We could make a million dollars." He shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner. "Then we wouldn't have to worry about getting paying clients, right? I mean, if I never have to look at the layout of another art gallery, I can die a happy man."

Joe was relieved to see Frank's eyes roll in amusement. "They pay the bills, little brother. They pay the bills."

They both straightened as the door opened. A second later Chet ushered in Kara and an Asian woman who looked to be in her early fifties. Her black, tailored suit was elegant and understated, rimless glasses were perched on her nose, and a streak of white hair on the left side of her face stood out in stark contrast to the straight, black bob that framed her face. She carried a leather folder under her left arm. Once the door was shut, Kara turned to them. "Frank, Joe, I'd like to introduce Dr. Kyung-ae Park. Dr. Park, Frank and Joe Hardy, the detectives I've been telling you about."

"Dr. Park, nice to meet you." Joe put out his right hand.

Dr. Park looked at him, her fact impassive, her hands not moving from her sides. "They are younger than I would have thought," she said, glancing at Kara.

"Frank and Joe are very experienced detectives," Kara replied. "I can't think of anyone I would..."

The doctor put up a hand, cutting off Kara's words. She turned to Frank. "You are the elder brother, I presume?"

Frank bowed slightly. "Dr. Park. Oon-young, ha-sae-yoh. May we offer you some refreshment?"

A slight smile touched the woman's face. "Coffee would be lovely, thank you."

"Please make yourself comfortable," Frank said. "We'll be right back." As the two women sat, Frank turned towards the door leading back to the reception area.

"I'll just give you a hand with that," Joe said. "Sugar, cream?"

"Black." The temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees with that one word. _What did I do?_ Joe thought. He shut the door behind him and grabbed Frank's arm. "'Bro, you speak _Japanese_?"

"Korean." Frank placed three mugs of coffee on a tray. "Can you get the door? I don't want to be wearing any of these."

"Japanese... Korean... whatever. Since when do you speak Korean?" Joe planted himself in front of the office door. "And what did you say to her?"

"Hello. The polite way. Like you do to an elder." Frank shrugged. "There's a Korean diner down the street from Anna's place. I've been going there for dinner after I water the plants. Mrs. Kim felt sorry for me and started teaching me a few things."

Joe stared at him, his blue eyes showing incredulity. "You're keeping yourself entertained while your girlfriend's away by learning languages?"

"Most of what I know is food, all right? Can you let me in now?"

"Sometimes I wonder if we really are related..." Joe shook his head as he opened the door and followed his brother back inside. "Freak," he muttered under his breath.

Frank shot him a dirty look as he put the tray on his desk. When he turned back to their client, his expression had smoothed out, and Joe was impressed at the speed with which his brother had gone back to his business face. He took one of the cups from the tray and gave it to Kara, surreptitiously caressing her hand as he did so.

Frank presented Dr. Park with the second cup and took the remaining one for himself. "Dr. Park, what can Hardy Investigations do for you?"

The woman turned to Kara. "What did you tell them?"

Kara flushed. "Nothing, Aunt Kay. You said you preferred..."

Joe gave Frank a sideways look. _Aunt Kay?_ "Maybe if one of you could tell us what's going on here?"

"Your young man is impatient, Kara." Dr. Park took a sip of her coffee, then put the cup down on the tray and took a deep breath. "I am the daughter of Park Hunh-Bin."

Frank's head jerked up. "The nuclear physicist?"

The woman nodded, one eyebrow raised slightly. "I see Kara did not exaggerate when she spoke of your intelligence." Her tone was approving, and Joe mentally shook his head, wondering why Frank got praise while he was getting the cold shoulder. Dr. Park paused for a moment, still speaking only to Frank. "Yes. My father escaped North Korea with our family when I was a child. He also managed to smuggle out many of his notes regarding experiments he was working on, effectively crippling the government's nuclear program."

"A program they've gotten restarted in the last few years," Frank noted.

"That's interesting, but what does it have to do with us?" Joe asked, leaning forward. "Do you need a safe place to keep your father's notes?"

"I am concerned for the safety of my daughter," Dr. Park said, folding her hands in her lap. "I have been hearing rumors in the Korean community that those in power would do anything to get my father's notes back, that the North Korean government considers them essential to the success of the program."

"And you're afraid they'll go after your daughter to get you to give up the papers?" Joe leaned back in his chair. "Wouldn't it make more sense for them to attack you directly? Going after your kid seems stupid." He wondered what kind of reaction this wording would get.

"Joe..." Kara's voice held a faint warning.

"No, Kara, while the wording is inelegant, he asks a valid question." She turned to Joe, her expression grudgingly impressed. "Attacking me wouldn't get them my father's notes. I am the only one who knows where they are, and I would _die _before letting them into the hands of my enemy." She faltered. "But my daughter is vulnerable."

"What is it you need of us, Dr. Park?" Frank's voice was low and serious.

"Kara has told me of your undercover assignments." She smiled fondly at Kara before turning back to Frank and Joe. "I wish to hire you to protect my daughter, to pose as teachers at her school so she has someone around her twenty-four hours a day."

"For how long?" Joe's eyes flickered to Kara's face. Her lips were pressed in a firm line, and she wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Until November."

Frank tilted his head to the side, a questioning look on his face. "Why November?"

Kara cleared her throat. "Word from the State Department is the North Korean government is planning to fire an armed missile at the end of October. The Internet is buzzing, but there hasn't been any independent confirmation as of yet." Frank nodded.

"I believe this experiment to be based on my father's work," Dr. Park continued. "If the launch is successful, they will no longer need my father's notes. If it fails, they will assume my father's work was flawed. Either way, Soon-Yi will be safe."

"Soon-Yi is your daughter?" Joe asked.

"Yes." Dr. Park opened the leather folder that was now on her lap. She extracted a photograph from its inside cover and handed it to Frank. It showed a young woman seated in front of an oak tree. She looked like a younger, slightly goth version of her mother, her straight black hair cut at an odd angle and dark, thick lines of color around her eyes. She wore black, artfully torn clothes, and scuffed sneakers. "This is her school picture from last year."

Frank took a quick look at the photo, nodded, then handed it to Joe, who examined it carefully.

"She looks about seventeen, five feet, six inches tall, give or take." Joe squinted at the photo, focusing on the bottom half. "An athlete. The muscles in her legs indicate she's a runner. I'm guessing long distance." He continued without waiting for confirmation. "Your husband's American, isn't he?" He lifted his eyes to find Dr. Park watching him, one eyebrow raised. "What?"

"You are correct."

Joe's jaw clenched in anger at the slight tone of surprise in the woman's voice. _Great, from _Frank_ you expect intelligence. But not from me. Lovely. _He saw a glimmer of worry in Kara's eyes and made himself relax. That would be a conversation for later. He turned back to the doctor.

"Soon-Yi will be eighteen in December. She is a runner, and yes, my husband _was_ American. He passed away several years ago." She turned toward Kara, her eyes softening. "I met John at MIT. We were students together. It is also where we met Kara's father." She sighed and shook her head. "My daughter was always more comfortable with her father, with her American half." Her lips quirked up in a bitter smile. "In fact, she would be appalled if she knew I was here. She insists she can take care of herself." She paused. "I would rather she be offended and safe. I do not wish to lose any other members of my family."

"Dr. Park, I appreciate your concern for your daughter's safety," Frank said, "but I'm not sure how..."

"Headmaster Whitman was another classmate of ours." Dr. Park held her hand back out for her picture. "He is expecting a call from me this evening to let him know when you will be arriving."

"Arriving?" Joe spluttered. "We haven't agreed to take the case! We don't even know where this school is."

"Joe..." The word was knife-edge sharp, but Kara's voice held an undercurrent of worry.

"It's all right, my dear," the older woman said. "I apologize for my presumption, Mr. Hardy. I realize I am asking a great deal without providing many details." She let out a long breath. "Soon-Yi attends Pocumtuck Academy in Massachusetts. It is affiliated with Deerfield Academy." Frank's eyes widened. "Each of the students suffers from some type of disability that makes it difficult to attend a traditional school. Soon-Yi is dyslexic." Her eyes lowered, and she examined her hands for a moment before continuing. "She also stutters."

Joe noticed this was said in a much lower tone. _She doesn't mind the learning disability, but the stutter bothers her. Interesting._ He brought his attention back to what she was saying.

"Pocumtuck creates specialized lesson plans that take into account each student's learning style to help them reach their intellectual potential." The words sounded as if they came straight from the school's brochure. It also sounded as if Dr. Park hadn't bought into the concept. Joe had to keep himself from smirking.

"I've heard of Pocumtuck. The teachers are disabled as well, aren't they?" Frank asked.

Dr. Park nodded. "They serve as role models for the students, to show that their disabilities do not limit them."

A line appeared on Frank's forehead. "We're not disabled."

"Not all disabilities are visible. That can be worked out."

"I don't like the idea of lying to kids," Frank said. He picked up his coffee mug and held it between his hands. "How certain are you of the threat to your daughter?"

"I am certain of nothing, Mr. Hardy," she said. "What I am is afraid. I need your help."

Joe locked his eyes onto Frank's. _Say no. Say no. Say no._

Frank's lips pressed into a line. The coffee mug made a clicking noise as he placed it back on the desk. "We can't say 'yes' right now, Dr. Park. We'll need to discuss this. We have other clients. You're asking a lot."

"I understand. I will return to my hotel room to allow you to talk this over." She rose to her feet. "It was a pleasure to meet both of you. I look forward to hearing your decision."

The door had barely closed when Joe jumped to his feet. "What do you mean, 'we can't say yes right now'? You're actually considering this? This isn't a case; it's paranoia."

"Joe!" Kara's voice was indignant. "I've known her since I was a child, and I've never known her to be anything but scientific and pragmatic. She's really worried about Sunny."

"Sunny?" Frank moved behind his desk and flipped open his laptop.

"It's what Uncle John called her," Kara explained. "She and Aunt Kay have never had what you'd call a close relationship." She moved closer to Joe, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Aunt Kay can be a little... difficult."

Joe snorted. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

Kara continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Controlling. Uncle John used to keep the peace between them. Sunny applied to Pocumtuck a few months after he died. Aunt Kay only found out when the headmaster called about setting up an interview. He'd recognized Sunny's name and was looking forward to talking with his old friend's wife." She paused, shaking her head. "I'm not sure who was more shocked – the headmaster, Aunt Kay, or Sunny when she realized she wouldn't actually be getting as far away from her mother's sphere of influence as she wanted."

Joe pulled away from Kara's touch. "Kara, there's no evidence to prove her daughter's in danger. Why did you even bring her to us?"

Kara's expression went still, her brown eyes troubled. "Because my father asked me to. That was the family emergency."

"What?" Joe's face clearly showed his disbelief. "Your father hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," she sighed. "He just doesn't like the fact that we're living together."

"Doesn't like? He practically threw me out of..."

Frank cleared his throat. "I hate to interrupt the lovers' spat, but you might be interested in what I've found here." He turned the laptop around to face them.

Onscreen a pretty Asian newscaster was reading from a sheaf of papers, the English translation of her words scrolling across the bottom of the picture. "Tomorrow at one o'clock we will broadcast our Dear Leader as he speaks to the nation and the world about the missile tests that will restore our country to prominence."

Frank snapped the laptop closed. "Do I believe Soon-Yi is in danger?" He shook his head. "I don't know." He paused, looking intently at Joe. "But if we don't take this case and something happens to her? I don't think I could face myself in the mirror. Do you?"

Joe swallowed. "No, I guess not."

"Kara, can you give me your aunt's number?"

Kara pulled out a card and handed it to Frank, who immediately picked up his phone, then swiveled his chair so his back was to them. Joe let out a breath and walked out to the reception area. He turned as he felt a soft touch on his arm.

"Thank you."

Joe grimaced. He was sure this was going to be a giant waste of time. A waste of time that would keep him apart from Kara for months. Which was probably just what Mr. Malone wanted. "I've got another art gallery visit in about 15 minutes. How about we talk about it at home, okay?"

"I still like hearing you say that." Kara reached up and placed a light hand on his face. "I'll take care of dinner. See you later."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The smell of Chinese take-out drifted through the hall as Joe walked to the apartment he and Kara now shared. He could make out fried rice, beef chow fan, and hot and sour soup. His stomach rumbled as he unlocked the door, hunger dampening down his continued irritation over the meeting that afternoon. "Kara?"

The table was set with candles, a bottle of wine, and white cartons with chopsticks poking out of them. Joe swallowed, his mouth starting to water.

"They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach." Kara's voice came from the door to the bedroom. She wore a short, royal blue silk robe, her brown hair damp and hanging loose around her shoulders. She sauntered over to him, reached up, and pulled his face down to hers, kissing him until he almost forgot about the food. "But I think there are other ways to get there, too. Miss me?"

"Yes." Joe's breath was ragged. "Don't _ever _go away again." He ran his hands down her back, his fingers brushing again the lustrous silk. "Have I mentioned how much I like this robe?"

She smiled. "Once or twice." She kissed him again. "Did I mention I'm not wearing anything under it?"

Joe smiled. "Really? I may need to investigate to see if you're telling the truth."

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

The food was cold by the time they sat down to eat, but Joe didn't care. The past few days had been the first time he and Kara had been apart since... _Since I got out of the hospital_, he thought. Her constant presence during his recuperation had made the apartment feel barren and empty when she left it even for just a few hours. There hadn't been extensive discussion about living together; one day Joe just realized the place felt more like home with Kara in it. By the time the sun set, most of Kara's belongings were being unpacked. That had been several months ago, and Kara's absence over the past few days had left him feeling empty inside. As they ate, he replayed the meeting with Dr. Park, knowing that taking the case would mean months of separation. He put down his chopsticks and let out a long breath.

"You're not eating?" Kara teased. "What's wrong?"

"Why did your father ask you to bring Dr. Park to us?"

Kara tilted her head to the side, some noodles trapped between the chopsticks she held in her hand. "Because he thinks you and Frank can help Aunt Kay."

"Is that the _only _reason?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, her smile fading.

"Come on, Kara. Your dad's not my biggest fan." He snorted. "If I were a betting man, I'd put money down that he was trying to split us up. If it was _Frank_ you were dating..."

"But it's not," she interrupted. "Frank's my friend, but _you're_ the one I'm in love with. My parents know that." Joe looked off to the side. "Joe, my dad suggested I bring Aunt Kay to you because you're good at what you do, not because he doesn't like you."

Joe's eyes whipped back to Kara's face. "So, I'm right. He doesn't like me."

Kara rolled her eyes. "Joe, I'm his baby girl. He wouldn't like anyone I was living with."

"Even Frank?"

"Even Frank."

Joe picked up his chopsticks again. "I guess that makes me feel better." He stabbed a piece of steak. "I'll miss you."

"I know." She put the noodles in her mouth, slowly pulling the chopsticks out from between her lips. Joe's mouth went dry. "I suppose we'd better make the most of the time we have now, shouldn't we?"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"So, how was the Dragon Lady?"

Frank glared at his brother, his brown eyes practically shooting lasers. "Dr. Park was very gracious. And grateful. She appreciates an extended assignment like this will cause some difficulties for us." He shook his head. "She didn't blink when I gave her the fee estimate. She actually told me money was no object, that she just wants Soon-Yi safe."

Joe whistled. "She used those words?"

"Those exact words." He took a manilla envelope from his laptop case and unsealed it.

"Weird. Almost like a movie script." Joe sat heavily in one of the chairs in front of Frank's desk. "So, did you talk to Headmaster what's-his-name?"

"Whitman. Donald Whitman. He's been the headmaster there for about ten years. He's an interesting guy. It turns out he was instrumental in starting Pocumtuck. His son has cerebral palsy. The kid was a genius, but with his speech problems and physical symptoms, the public schools wanted to put him in special ed classes which weren't academically challenging enough for him. When they tried private schools, they found out they didn't have the facilities to deal with his disability." He shook his head. "He didn't want other kids to have to go through what his son did. I was impressed."

"So, what's Pocumtuck like?" Joe grabbed a pencil from Frank's desk and started shifting it between his fingers.

"It's small, only about forty students, ages ten through eighteen." Frank folded his hands on the envelope. "The classes are kept small so each student can learn at his or her own rate."

"Speaking of learning..." Joe eyed his brother apprehensively. "What do I teach? Please say it's not math."

Frank smiled. "Gym."

"What?"

"You're going to be the athletic director." His brown eyes danced with amusement. "We're not actually teachers, little brother. These kids deserve a real education."

"All right. If I'm teaching gym, what are you teaching?" Joe started beating a drum cadence on the desk with the pencil. "Computer science?"

"No." Frank's lips quirked up into a mocking smile. "I'm going to be the school media specialist."

"You're the librarian?" The pencil fell to the floor as Joe howled with laughter. "Tell me you're going to wear those glasses again, yes?"

Frank nodded, a puzzled expression on his face. "That was the plan, why?"

"Oh, this is too good." He gabbed the pencil from next to his foot, stood, and tapped Frank on the shoulder with it. "I hereby dub thee Giles."

"Giles?" Frank brushed some dust from his shoulder.

"Didn't you ever watch _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_?" Joe's eyes widened at Frank's obvious confusion. "'Bro, you need to broaden your horizons," he said as he worked to get his laughter under control. "Are you going to wear those jackets with the suede pads on the elbows?"

"Probably. Why?"

"No reason, but I'm putting you on notice. I'm taking pictures and will be sending them to Anna."

Frank shook his head. "I'm glad you find my disguise so amusing."

"You have _no_ idea," Joe said, wiping his eyes. "It'll be the only thing that makes this assignment worth taking." He paused and took a breath, sobering suddenly. "When do we have to be there?"

"He wants us there the Sunday of Labor Day weekend." Frank started shaking documents out of the envelope. "Monday is move-in day for the students. I told him you'd be there Sunday afternoon, but I can't be there until Monday night."

"How come I have to get there before you?" Joe flipped the pencil upside down and began bouncing the eraser off the desktop. "That doesn't seem fair."

Frank cocked an eyebrow. "I've got non-refundable tickets to Paris that weekend. Besides, we're not supposed to know each other. Showing up at different times will reinforce that impression." He started rifling through the pile of papers. "Here. There's not enough time to come up with new identities, so we're going to use some old ones."

Joe took the license Frank was holding out. "Wait a minute, 'bro, the last time I was Joe Miller I had a 'brain injury'," he made air quotes around the words. "That won't work with this assignment. I can't carry around that notebook again. No one will take me seriously."

"Not to worry. This Joe Miller has hypertrophic cardiomyopathy."

"And the translation of that is?"

Frank finished sorting the documents before looking back up. "It's a thickening of the heart muscles that can slow the flow of blood to the heart. It was discovered when you were a college football player. You had to stop playing but wanted to keep up with sports, so you went into education to pass on your love of athletics."

"Nice to know I'm so altruistic. What's your story?"

Frank pulled a small box from his desk. It contained a hearing aid. "I'm pulling Frank Tennison back out. Minus the sparkling personality, that is. He's got hearing loss, the result of a car accident in high school." He plucked the device from the package and placed it behind his left ear. "I stuck a GPS chip in it. As long as it's in one piece, it'll transmit my location. If it stops, Kara will know where to look for me. Us."

Joe put the pencil down on the desk, the light in his blue eyes dimming. "Do you think there's really any danger to Sunny?"

"I don't know." Frank sighed. "I hope not, but I'd rather be over-prepared than be caught surprised. Wouldn't you?"

Joe nodded. "Definitely." He shrugged. "I never thought I'd ever be a teacher. I guess I'd better start working on Joe Miller's wardrobe and characteristics."

"It wouldn't be a bad idea." Frank put the hearing aid back into its box, then placed the container in his desk drawer. "Oh, by the way. That gallery you were at yesterday? They called back this morning. It turns out their next exhibit won't fit the way they originally planned. They need to you to go back and redesign the camera set up for the new layout."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Again? Why do I get stuck with all these calls? Remind me not complain about this assignment any more. If it gets me out of any more art galleries, I'm okay with it."


	3. Three

_Late October_

_Friday morning 2am_

* * *

"Come on. Wake up, sleepyhead." Joe shook the shoulders of the boy curled up by his chest. "Hey, buddy, it's time to go." He propped a flashlight up against one of the rocks, making sure it was hidden from the cave's entrance.

The boy rubbed his eyes and stretched. /Is Frank back?/

"No." Joe worked to keep his voice flat, trying not to betray the depth of his worry. "He's probably keeping whoever it is away so we can get out of here. Laying some false trail or something." He pasted a small smile on his face, hoping it looked believable. "I don't know about you, but I could do with some hot food."

/Could we get burgers?/ Benj looked up at him, his eyes full of affection and absolute trust.

Joe swallowed, hoping the kid's trust was justified. He wished he knew _what_ exactly was going on here. Who were the guys who had found them? Frank hadn't said anything about their being Korean. _Of course, they could have hired anyone to do the dirty work_. "Sure, kid. It may take a while, but I'll make sure you get a burger. I promise." He struggled to stand, his muscles complaining about the cold and cramped conditions, and gingerly put weight on his injured foot. Air hissed through his teeth as a stabbing pain shot up his leg. He clamped his mouth shut and straightened. "There, see? Not so bad."

"Tch." Sunny rolled her eyes, her arms twisted in a stretch behind her back. "Y.. you w.. won't get far like that," she said. "S.. sit back d.. down, and g.. give me y.. your f.. foot." She unclasped her hands and reached inside her coat, unwinding a silk scarf from around her neck. Once Joe was seated again, she gently removed his sneaker and wrapped the scarf around his ankle. "Not as g.. good as an ace b.. bandage, but it'll h.. have to d.. do." She examined her handiwork, then regarded him with weary eyes. "B.. better?"

Joe pushed up with his hands, waiting until he was upright before putting his foot back on the uneven surface. The pain had subsided to a dull throb. "Yeah, thanks. Nice scarf."

Sunny showed a bitter smile. "N.. not the use m.. my m.. mother intended it for."

"And not who she intended it for either. It probably wouldn't make her happy to know I've got it."

/You know Sunny's mom? How? She didn't come on move-in day./ Benj's hands expressed surprise.

Joe nodded, a smile twisted on his lips. "Let's just say I've met her and leave it at that. She doesn't seem to like me very much. Frank was more her type." He was interested to see Sunny's eyes widen. "We can talk more about that later," he said. "Right now, I need to get you two somewhere safe."

The word 'safe' seemed to reignite Benj's fear. He moved closer to Sunny. /What if they're waiting for us?/ His hands trembled as they formed the question.

Joe stooped so he could look the boy in the eyes. "Then you and Sunny run as fast as you can while I hold them off."

/But you're hurt./ Benj looked close to tears, and Joe wondered what else could have happened to him in his eleven years to bring up such panic.

"Doesn't matter," he replied, laying a hand on the side of Benj's face, his hand looking even paler against the boy's dark skin in the dim light. "I won't let _anyone_ take you. Just stay close to Sunny, okay?"

Benj nodded and placed a hand in one of Sunny's. Sunny looked up at Joe, a grudging respect dawning in her eyes.

Joe scooped up the flashlight and indicated the cave's mouth. "Let's get going."

The trip down the mountain was painfully slow. They had gone fairly deep into the woods when running away the day before, and it took several tries before they found the right trail. Once they found it, navigating it in the dark was difficult, and Joe had to bite his tongue several times to keep himself from swearing when he came down wrong on his foot. He was glad for the need to concentrate, though; it kept him mind from dwelling on the fact that Frank hadn't come back for them, that there hadn't been any word at all. _Just be safe, 'bro. That's all I ask._

By the time they got back to the closed visitors' center, it had started raining again, a light drizzle that had them all soaked. They huddled together in the bus shelter by the side of the road, trying to stay out of the wet and cold. Benj had his hands stuck in his pockets, his teeth chattering, and Sunny was shivering. Joe checked the laminated schedule taped to the wall and nodded.

"W.. What n.. now?" she asked, hugging Benj to her and rubbing his arms.

"Now I find somewhere we can hide," Joe answered, flexing his fingers, which had grown stiff from the cold.

Benj pulled his arms free. /Hide? We just _were_ hiding./

"Yeah, but this is where they'd be expecting us to be. We're going to find somewhere less obvious." Although it appeared no one was around, Joe lowered his voice to a whisper. "We're going to hide in plain sight." Benj's eyes grew round.

Sunny raised an eyebrow. "And j.. just how d.. does one d.. do that?"

_She talks just like Frank,_ Joe thought. _No wonder she's got such a crush on him._ He cleared his throat. "You've heard the expression 'It's like looking for a needle in a haystack'?"

/We're going to a farm?/

Joe shook his head. "No. We're going to find a bunch of needles." A loud vehicle noise came from down the road.

A nearly empty bus pulled up to the shelter, the letters PVTA visible in dark blue painted on a white background. Joe nodded to the open door. "And this is how we _get_ to the needles."

He pushed the brim of Benj's hat farther down his forehead, then leaned towards Sunny and rearranged her hair so it hung over her face. Last of all, he yanked the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. Then he took one last look around and herded his charges inside the bus.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Saturday afternoon 2pm_

* * *

"_...So I told him if he was really that desperate to do something stupid, he could..." Frank looked up from the stack of shirts he had been putting in the chest of drawers. "Hey, Rog, are you in there?"_

_Roger stood in the middle of the room, a pair of pants in his hands, his green eyes staring at nothing. His head jerked up, his eyes meeting Frank's. The pants fell to the floor. "Sorry, man. I was somewhere else. What were you saying?"_

_Frank regarded his roommate with careful eyes. "Roger, is everything all right? I don't want to pry..."_

"_But it's what you do, right?" The tone of Roger's face was halfway between amusement and sneering. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean that the way it came out." He bent down to pick the jeans up off the floor and sat down heavily on his bed once they were in his hands. "It's nothing. Problems with the parental units."_

"_I noticed they didn't help you move in. Are they off again?" Frank sat at his desk and watched as Roger's expression darkened, his eyes getting harder. _

"_Ethiopia."_

_Frank nodded. Roger's parents – Peter and Emily Gardner – were a world-renowned archaeologist and anthropologist, respectively, and spent most of their time on digs in exotic, foreign locations. Roger had grown up all over the world, his time at Utica the longest he had ever been in one place. "How long this time?"_

_Roger fell back on to the bed. "Who knows? Too long? Not long enough? It's hard to say." He raised himself on his elbows and looked at Frank. "You are so lucky. You always know where your parents are."_

"_Uh, no," Frank said, shaking his head, a half-smile on his face. "You've met my dad, right? He was gone a lot when Joe and I were kids. Still is. Now I just don't notice it as much. At least your folks come back with interesting stuff." He smiled. "Mine just comes home with interesting injuries."_

"_Yeah, but you had your mother and your aunt," Roger shot back, "and a home to go back to." He waved a hand around. "As sad as it sounds? This is the closest thing I've ever had to a home, and it's slipping right out of my hands."_

"_Wait... what?"_

_Roger turned his face to the wall. "They were back for a few weeks this summer. There's this new... project... they're going to be investing in." He took a deep, angry breath. "They didn't want me to come back this year. Said they needed the money for something else. Said if I took this year off, they'd make sure I could finish in a year or two." His voice dropped. "I told them there was no way I wasn't going to graduate in May, that _I'd_ find a way to pay for this year if I had to. We compromised. They paid for this semester, and they're giving me this time to figure out how to fund next semester. Otherwise, I'm done."_

_Frank's mouth dropped open. As a private school, Utica was expensive. Even if Roger could get student loans, there'd be no way he could come up that kind of money on his own. He couldn't understand why Roger's parents had even suggested it. He had met and liked Peter and Emily, two adults who insisted he call them by their first names and treated him as an equal. This didn't sound like the people he knew at all, but Roger's voice and attitude made it clear this wasn't a safe comment to make right now. He ran a hand through his hair and swallowed. "I'm sorry. Look, whatever I can do to help..."_

"_Whatever." Roger cut off the words and pushed himself off the bed. "I'm going for a walk."_

"_You want company?"_

"_No." An angry smile played on the corners of Roger's mouth. "I heard Alex talking about an off-campus party tonight. I was thinking I'd go check it out. Getting loaded on your first night back to school's a tradition, right?"_

"_I wouldn't know." Frank's lips pressed together in disapproval. _

_Roger laughed, a mocking, humorless sound. "You need to loosen up, roomie."_

"_Like you're about to? No thanks."_

"_Hey," Roger shrugged his shoulders, "if this is going to be my last semester, I don't want to feel like I missed anything." He headed to the door. "Don't wait up."_

_Frank launched himself from the chair. "If you don't _want_ this to be your last semester, you'd be better off staying here and letting me help you with research. Partying isn't going to do it."_

"_I can't believe you. Work, work, work." Now Roger _was_ sneering."No wonder your brother went to NYU instead of following you here. No wonder your girl found someone more interesting to go out with. You're like an old man." __ Frank took a step back. He'd never heard this tone from Roger, and it stung. _Roger turned his back on Frank and strode out to the hall. "And I have no intention of ending up like you." The door slammed behind him.

_Frank reached for the handle, practically wrenching the door off its hinges. "Roger. Roger!" Concerned faces appeared from the doorways of other rooms. "Get back here! What the hell is wrong with you? Roger!"_

An insistent hand shook his shoulder. "Frank. Frank, can you hear me? Wake up. You need to wake up!"

Pain shot through Frank's chest as he tried to sit up. "What...?" He blinked, trying to get control of his breathing, the cracked ribs violently complaining with the exaggerated motion of his chest. "Shit," he breathed out. "Hurts."

"You were shouting something in your sleep," Chet said, one hand pressed up to the side of his face. "You were practically jumping out of bed. I was afraid you were going to re-injure something."

Frank groaned as it occurred to him why Chet's hand was where it was. "I hit you, didn't I?" He closed his eyes and put his head back down on the pillow. "Chet, I'm sorry. I was having this dream. It was so real."

"You didn't mean to. You were jumping around. I was trying to keep the IV lines from pulling out." Chet massaged his jaw for a second, then smiled ruefully. "I'll try to remember to keep my face away from your hands when you're thrashing around in bed." He paused, a faint blush covering his cheeks. "And, while I'm at it, come up with an even more awkward way to phrase that. Anyway, what was your dream about?"

"An argument I had with my roommate a couple of months ago." Frank flushed. "I mean..."

Chet gave him a sympathetic look. "For you it _was_ a couple of months ago. I didn't know you and Roger ever argued about anything other than who had the higher GPA. What was going on?"

"I don't know. It was a dream," Frank said, his voice growing angry. "I don't remember." He pounded the mattress with his right hand. "I _can't_ remember. I can't help Roger. I can't help Joe. I feel so damned _useless_."

"Hey, none of that," Chet said. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but whatever happened with Roger was five years ago. And you can help Joe by calming down. Forcing your memory isn't going to make it come back any quicker." He put a hand on Frank's arm. "You're being too hard on yourself, Frank. _You're injured_. Even with all the knocks on the head you guys got when we were younger, this one's a lot more serious, and it's going to mess with your emotions until you're fully recovered. So stop beating yourself up and let yourself heal. Got that? I mean, you were pushed off a mountain. You're lucky to be alive."

"When did you get so wise?" Frank turned his face to Chet, the anger draining away, leaving him exhausted.

Chet raised an eyebrow. "I've always been wise. You just haven't been paying enough attention."

Frank barked out a laugh, wincing as it reverberated through his head. "Has there been any word?" Now that the anger had passed, he could feel his body shutting down. He fought the sleep that was trying to claim him again.

"Not as of yet. Kara said she'd let us know as soon as she hears anything." Chet's voice sounded far away.

"He's hiding somewhere," Frank murmured. "Somewhere in plain sight. Just like when we were kids. Needle in a..." His voice trailed off as his eyes closed again.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Frank could hear voices talking to him, feel hands on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. Each time the person waking him up asked the same questions: Do you know who are you? Where you are? Why are you here? What day is it? Can you tell us what happened? What year is it?

The pity visible in the eyes of the questioners when he couldn't answer the last question made him grind his teeth in frustration.

Specialists woke him when he was dozing to do simple tests: Can you touch your nose with your eyes closed? Does it hurt if you put your chin to your chest? Read this for me, please. Here's some simple math.

He wanted to yell at them all to go away, to let him rest, to leave him alone to heal so he could find his brother. Instead, he performed the tasks they asked, knowing if he did he'd be allowed to leave sooner. _But leave and do what? _he wondered. In his present physical condition he wouldn't be much help to anyone, and unless his memory came back soon... _I'm useless. Helpless and completely useless..._ He turned his head away from the door, closing his eyes.

Another hand touched his shoulder. "What?" The word hissed through his teeth. He heard someone swallow.

"I saw they finally left you alone. Thought I'd see if you wanted something to eat." Chet's voice was soft and held a note of understanding.

Guilt flooded through Frank. He hadn't realized it was Chet. He let out a breath and turned to face his friend. "Sorry. I thought..."

"No worries. Are you hungry?"

Frank shook his head gingerly. "No. Thank you."

Chet regarded him with a steady gaze. "Fine. Just tell me when you're ready. I'll order something for you. The patient menu doesn't look too bad."

"You know what I _do_ need?" Chet leaned forward to catch Frank's words. "I really need some water on my face. Any chance you can help me get to the bathroom?"

"Sure." Chet's eyes lit up. "Give me a sec to see if I remember how to get you unhooked from all this. Last night's nurse showed me how just in case." Once the cables had been removed, Chet wheeled the IV stand closer to the bed, then sat down. "All right, slide your legs this way." A hiss escaped Frank's lips as Chet inched him to the side of the bed. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," Frank grunted. "Keep... going."

It took nearly five minutes to make the six foot walk to the bathroom. Once inside, Frank leaned against the wall, eyes closed, trying to get his breath back. With a shaky hand, he turned on the cold water faucet and splashed some water on his face. He wiped his face with a paper towel and straightened, his eyes catching the reflection in the mirror.

It stopped his breath.

It wasn't the bruises on the side of his face – the mottled purple and black mist darkening the skin from the bottom of his ear up to his forehead – or the hair – longer than it should have been and parted on the other side from when he left for school two months ago.

It was his face.

The planes were sharper, the cheekbones more pronounced. There was a faint scar on his right temple. It wasn't the face of a twenty-year-old college student.

It was the face of an older man.

He fell heavily against the wall, suddenly dizzy and unable to breathe, jogging his shoulder and making his ribs protest. It was one thing to be told he'd lost five years. Seeing the evidence with his own eyes was another.

"Frank, are you all right?" Chet's panicked voice came from outside the bathroom. "Frank?" The door flew open. Chet took one look at Frank's face and ran inside. "I need some help in here," he yelled, as he pulled the emergency cord and struggled to get Frank upright. "Now!"

Within seconds a male nurse was in the room. Together, they got Frank back into bed, the nurse yelling out the door for oxygen. "You need to calm down, son. You're hyperventilating; it's not good for your ribs. Just listen to my voice. Calm down. _Calm down._" A portable oxygen tank appeared in the room, and Frank felt a mask being slipped over his face. "When's the last time he had any pain meds?" the nurse asked.

"I.. I don't know," Chet said. "I should have been paying attention."

The nurse shook his head. "Not your job," he said. Another nurse came in with a syringe. "That long?" he asked. She nodded, a grim expression on her face. "Go ahead then. He needs to relax."

As the medicine worked its way through the IV line, Frank felt his muscles slowly start to unclench. "Thank you," he whispered. "I'm sorry." His eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry." Everything was spinning out of control. He couldn't stop the anger, the tears. He couldn't make his brain or his emotions cooperate. He hated it.

Chet grabbed his hand. "No. _You don't apologize._ We find who did this to you. _They_ apologize." He blew out a breath. "If they can still talk after Joe and I get done with them," he muttered. He let go of Frank's hand and said something quietly to the nurse, who nodded. "Frank, you rest for a bit. They're going to get Dr. Finley. I think you need to talk to him."

"You'll stay until he comes?" His voice sounded weak and uncertain in his ears. The pain medication was taking effect, making it easier to breathe, eliminating some of the dizziness he had felt in the bathroom. He reached out again for Chet's hand.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Good."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It took nearly an hour for the doctor to arrive. Frank had taken off the oxygen mask and sat unmoving, staring out the window.

"Now that looks more like the Frank Hardy I remember."

The voice had startled him. He hadn't heard the door creak open or Chet silently leaving. "What do you mean? How do you know me?"

Dr. Finley put his tablet on the bedside table. "I couldn't believe it when I saw your name on the monitor. Thought it had to be some poor guy with the same name. Then I saw Agents Malone and Welker, and I knew." He paused for a moment, examining Frank with compassionate eyes. "I treated you in New York a couple of years ago."

"For what?"

"You were catatonic when they brought you in. A case you'd been working on. I still don't know all the details." His eyes took on a warm look. "I have to say, even with all this" he indicated Frank's injuries with a wave of his hand, "you look much better than you did then. When my partner got a job at Mount Holyoke, and we moved here, I figured I'd never see you again. Surprise, surprise." He leaned on the table, moving it slightly. "I was impressed by your tenacity, by the loyalty you inspired in your friends, by your relationship with your brother."

Frank grimaced, a flash of pain crossing his face. "I don't remember you. You seem... familiar, but I have no memory of ever meeting you."

Finley smiled. "It wasn't exactly a good time in your life, Frank; you were in pretty bad shape. Don't worry, though, I'm not offended." He reached up and loosened his tie. "Do you mind if I sit?"

"Go ahead."

The doctor pulled the chair Chet had been sitting in closer to the bed. "I haven't seen Agent Malone in a while. I would have thought she'd be glued to your side. Are the two of you together?"

"No." Frank closed his eyes, hoping when he opened them, this would all have been a dream. "She's with Joe," the words came automatically, without any thought. "My girlfriend's name is Anna." Air rushed from his lungs. His eyes flew open, his heart racing. A fleeting picture formed in his mind. _Dark hair. Braids._ He strained to hold on to it, to expand it into something bigger, something that would bring other memories with it, but the image blinked out as as quickly as it came. He put his face in his hands and swore.

"Frank? What was it?" Finley was leaning forward in the chair, concern in his voice, his brown eyes alert and curious.

"I don't... I don't know. It's gone now."

"So is Anna your college sweetheart?"

Frank shook his head. "I don't... didn't... date in college. I'm... I _was_ too busy studying."

Dr. Finley smiled. "The memories are there, Frank. They'll come back." He sat back in the chair. "So, Mr. Morton was telling me you had a nightmare. Do you remember any of it?"

"Something about my roommate. I don't remember the details. It was just a dream." Frank wanted the man to leave. He wanted to concentrate on the flash of memory, to try coaxing it back.

"Nonetheless, it could be important. Why don't you tell me how your semester is going? Are your classes harder than usual? Is there some sort of conflict with your roommate?"

"_What?_" Frank stared at the doctor, his eyes incredulous, his manner dismissive. "You do remember I'm not actually _in_ college, yes? That I've got a few other more pressing things on my mind right now?"

"Ah, there's the Frank I remember. Now that we've gotten the sarcasm out of the way, why don't you answer my question?" He looked at Frank, a wide, innocent expression in his eyes. "I'd like to believe your mind brought you back to your senior year for a reason, Frank. Why don't we figure out what it is? Now, you had a dream about your roommate. Tell me about him."

Frank sighed. The man was probably right. He swallowed, then started talking. He told Dr. Finley about Roger, how after three years of being roommates and close friends, their relationship was now strained by the time limit on Roger's education imposed by his parents. And by something else. "Something he's keeping from me. He hasn't blown up at me like he did that first night, but something's off. He's secretive, keeps hanging up the phone when I come home from class. I don't have any real reason to be suspicious, but..."

"But your line of work makes you think something's wrong?"

"Yes. It's frustrating to feel this way. He keeps telling me he's working on a project, but when I ask if I can help, he gets this odd look in his eyes."

"And he hasn't told you what the project is?"

"That's the most frustrating part. _It's in my past."_ Frank practically growled out the words. "It's happened already, and I don't know what it is. _I don't remember_." Frank squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm getting really tired of saying that."

A buzzing noise broke the silence. Dr Finley started and put his hand in the pocket of his lab coat. "I'm going to have to cut this short, Frank. I'm sorry, but I'm needed with another patient." He rose and moved to the door. "I'd like you to try something for me. Have Mr. Morton get you a notebook from the gift shop downstairs. I'd like you to write down everything you remember about your senior year." He stopped in the doorway, an idea lightening up his eyes. "Better yet, have him get his hands on a laptop. Put your hands on the keyboard, and let your mind wander."

"What good will that do?"

The doctor flashed a grin. "You might be surprised. I've seen how you type when your mind is... otherwise occupied, shall we say?" He shrugged. "Consider it an experiment. Now get some rest. Dr. Phillips will be furious with me if he thinks I'm impeding your recovery."

Frank nodded and turned back to the window, trying to force his mind to recall the image of Anna. When Chet returned twenty minutes later, he found Frank asleep, his hands clenched into fists, a grimace of concentration still on his face.


	4. Four

_Early September_

* * *

Joe arrived at Pocumtuck several days earlier than the rest of the staff so he could familiarize himself with the area and spend time with the headmaster. While the school's location was picturesque, he found the area much too quiet after being in Manhattan for the last few years. Pocumtuck looked stately enough, nestled in the rolling fields behind Deerfield Academy, but once you left campus, there wasn't much to look at other than the scenery and, unless you were an avid bicyclist, virtually nothing to do. South Deerfield, a town of less than 5,000 people, was even smaller than Bayport. The center of town had a few small restaurants, a gas station, and two small convenience stores. The library, open four days a week and looked smaller than his parents' house, appeared to be the social center of town. It was unnervingly rural and quaint.

On his second day, Headmaster Whitman gave him a tour of the campus. All the academic buildings were wheelchair-accessible, with wide hallways and large windows, and were equipped with enough electronics to make Joe's head spin. He figured he'd have to pry Frank out of the school with a crowbar once this assignment was over; it had more computer gadgets than he had known even existed. The classrooms formed a ring around the student residences, which, Whitman explained, each housed eight students and two houseparents.

"We try to keep the ratio of boys to girls even, so no one feels outnumbered." He flashed a deprecating smile. "Some years we do better than others. Each student has his or her own room. The bathrooms are shared."

"What about me and Frank?" Joe asked.

Whitman opened a door at the front of the house. "As houseparents, you get a suite, two rooms with a common living room. When the houseparents are a couple, they generally use one of the rooms as a bedroom and the other as an office. I don't imagine you'll be doing that."

Joe smiled. "Probably not." He surveyed the campus from the picture window. With the trees and gentle grassy slopes, it looked idyllic... until he started looking for places where people could hide unseen. The smile faded from his lips. "Mr. Whitman, do you really think Sunny is in any danger?"

"Kay seems to think..."

"With all due respect, sir, I _know_ what Dr. Park thinks. I want to know what _you_ think."

The man's eyes flickered to the window. "Well, Mr. Hardy..."

"Miller," Joe interrupted.

"What?"

"It'll help if you start calling me Mr. Miller. Or just Joe." At the man's surprised glance, he continued. "I don't imagine you're that formal with your gym teacher, and there's less of a chance of your slipping and calling me by the wrong name if you start now."

Whitman shook his head, looking momentarily bewildered. "You're right. Forgive me... Joe. This is... This is something I've never experienced." He took a deep breath, his gaze moving to the window. "I've known Kay for years. She's a scientist, a well-respected one, and not known for flights of fancy." When he turned back, Joe saw his eyes were troubled. "Since John's death, she's been... different. More protective of Sunny, more apt to see trouble where there isn't any. That said, she_ is_ frightened about these nuclear tests." He let out another breath. "I don't know how much you know about Kay's father."

Joe spread his hands in front of him. "Nothing. Science and politics are more Frank's areas than mine."

"Hunh-Bin Park was a genius." The man's voice was matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the weather. "The family lore is that he brought the North Korean nuclear project into the twentieth century almost single-handedly. When they escaped to the south, the Soviets were furious." Whitman frowned. "While I find it hard to believe someone would try to harm Sunny to get to his notes, it is within the realm of possibility. North Korea's consistent lack of success in launching a missile is a source of embarrassment to their government. With their new leader..." His voice trailed off, and the troubled look returned to his eyes. "John was one of my closest friends in college. If having you here can ensure the safety of his daughter..."

"I see." Joe cleared his throat. "Mr. Whitman..."

This time it was Whitman's turn to interrupt. "Headmaster." His lips quirked up into a small smile. "We both have names we need to get used to."

"Headmaster," Joe started again. "I'm going to need to put up some surveillance cameras around campus." Whitman's eyes widened. "Not in any of the student rooms. Just a few trained on the doors of this house and some of the common areas. I need to be able to keep an eye on who is coming and going from campus. I can promise they won't be obvious."

The headmaster regarded Joe for a long minute. "When Kay approached me about bringing you and your brother on campus, I did some investigating of my own." Joe held his breath. "A former colleague of mine worked with your father many years ago. She said if you two were anything like him, I would be a fool not to allow you on my campus." Joe felt his shoulders relax. "Install what cameras you need; I will make sure you get access to the school's CCTV as well."

The day before the students moved in, Whitman asked the new staff to meet in his office for a short orientation session. Busy with the finishing touches to his security system, Joe wandered in a few minutes late. Rather than interrupting, he stood in the doorway for a moment, taking the opportunity to observe the other new arrivals.

Ekaterina Mikhalychenko, the math instructor, looked bored. She had just graduated from college last spring, and as near as Joe could tell, wasn't thrilled about the prospect of teaching. _At least not teaching children,_ but he knew that without at least a master's degree, elementary education at a private school was her only option. _On the other hand,_ he thought, remembering her look of utter boredom when he was introduced to her, _she doesn't seem to be thrilled about anything else either._ While other staff members had spent the past few days moving into their rooms, renewing friendships or introducing themselves to the new staff, and doing touristy things – visiting Yankee Candle or the nearby Emily Dickinson Homestead – Ekaterina had stayed in her room, her face buried in a laptop or a cell phone attached to her ear. She didn't appear to have any interest in making friends on staff or even making small talk with anyone.

The other new staff members were a married couple, Phillip and Melissa Chang. Phillip, the computer instructor, was ethnic Chinese and appeared to be in his mid-thirties. From his sunglasses and the long white cane he carried, it was obvious he was blind, but Joe couldn't tell if it was a partial or total blindness. His accent indicated he was Chinese-born and hadn't been in the US very long. He leaned forward, seemingly captivated by Whitman's words. Melissa – English and reading instruction – was an American in her late twenties and appeared shy and self-conscious. She shifted constantly from side to side in her motorized wheelchair. She wore horn-rimmed glasses and clothes that were too big for her frame. _Either she's lost a lot of weight recently, or she's uncomfortable with her looks. _Joe couldn't tell if she was listening to the speech or not.

Once Frank arrived, there would be five new staff members, and Joe found himself wondering if it was normal for a school this size to replace half its staff at the beginning of the school year. _I'll check with Headmaster about it later._

Whitman cleared his throat, and Joe realized he had been so busy scrutinizing the others that he hadn't noticed the headmaster had seen him standing there. "Please, join us, Mr. Miller. As you know, each 'pod' consists of eight students and two instructors..."

"Wait," Joe interrupted with a laugh, as he walked in and took the empty chair between Ekaterina and Melissa, "we're pod people?"

Ekaterina shot him a withering look, contempt evident in her ice-blue eyes. She pushed honey-blonde hair from her shoulders, her lips forming a word Joe couldn't make out; he wasn't even sure if it was in English. _Possibly Russian_, he thought, _and probabl_y_ an insult. _On impulse, he winked at her, watching with a sense of amusement as she turned ever-so-slightly to avoid his eyes. He grinned, using the opportunity to examine her again. She had no visible disability like Phillip and Melissa, and he wondered if she suffered from something like he – or rather, Joe Miller – was supposed to have.

The headmaster laughed. "Not pod people in that sense, Joe," he said. "More like a seed pod; knowledge blooming all over." Joe nodded, and Whitman continued. "I've got a list for each of with the names and grades of all the students in your house." He handed Joe, Ekaterina, and Melissa a paper list – Phillip got a DVD – then turned to Ekaterina. "If you have any questions about your group, Claire should be able to fill you in. All of yours are returnees. Phillip, you and Melissa should go over your list this afternoon. The two of you have ended up with the most new students this year. Feel free to to ask me if you need any additional information."

Joe looked over his list and raised his hand. "Wait, so far, I'm the only adult in my house... pod... whatever you call it. Does that mean I get eight kids to myself? That doesn't seem fair."

"Your co-house parent is arriving later this weekend. His name is Frank Tennison." Joe was interested to see Phillip start at Whitman's announcement but had to look back as the headmaster continued. "The pods eat together, spend study halls and free periods together, and participate in group activities like field trips to local attractions – Historic Deerfield or the Smith College Art Museum. You can coordinate with other houseparents to combine trips if you would like."

"Houseparents," Joe muttered. "Just like the Harry Potter books. Does that make me Madam Hooch?" This earned a brief, brilliant smile from Melissa Chang.

Up until this moment, Melissa had seemed nervous, her cinnamon-colored eyes darting between her husband's face and a spot somewhere over the headmaster's right shoulder, one hand threading through a lock of her light brown hair. Joe smiled back at her, noting with interest both her immediate blush when she saw his eyes on her and the fact that while Phillip wore a thick, white gold wedding band on the third finger of his left hand, Melissa's left hand was ringless. He filed the information away for further investigation.

The meeting ended soon after. Once the others had left, Joe asked Whitman about the number of new staff. The headmaster seemed surprised by the question. "It's not _normal_ to need this many new staff members, but it's not unheard of," he said. "Not everyone is suited to teach at a residential school. Sometimes other opportunities arise." A small smile played at the corners of his lips. "In this case, we had one instructor who decided to go back to graduate school, and two couples who were starting families."

"So you needed to hire people quickly?"

Whitman nodded. "Again, unusual, but not unheard of. It happens at all schools at one time or another."

Joe let out a breath. "Headmaster, how well do you know the returning staff?"

"They've been here since Pocumtuck started, why?"

"So, you trust them?"

Whitman's head jerked up, his eyes narrowing. "Implicitly. Why?" A sharp edge became evident in his voice.

Joe spread his hands. "Headmaster, if we're going to keep Sunny safe, we need to look at all scenarios. We'll need to see the personnel files on everyone who works here, especially of the new staff."

"The CORI checks came back fine on everyone and all of their references were impeccable."

"I understand that sir, but we'll need to check them anyway." Joe made sure to keep his voice level.

The headmaster stared at him for a moment, then finally nodded, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I'll see that you get them."

"Thank you." Joe stood and put his hand on the doorknob. "I know this isn't easy." He flashed a grin at Whitman. "With any luck, the worst thing that happens is, come November, you'll have to find a new gym teacher and librarian.

Whitman shook his head, and gave Joe a crooked smile. "Wonderful," he said. "Something to look forward to."

Joe laughed. "We aim to please."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The next morning the students arrived, and by the end of the day, all Joe wanted was to go back to his room, lock the door, and fall asleep in front of some mindless television. With no kids anywhere in sight. _No_, he thought, _what I really want is to go home, wrap Kara in my arms, and then fall asleep in front of the tv._ It had only been a few days since he'd seen her, and he wasn't sure he was going to make it through a full week, never mind until November. The few times Joe had been able to call, he had only gotten her voice mail. Not even being able to talk to her left him frustrated beyond belief. _That's it. After this, no more undercover work._ _Well, at least no more_ long-term_ undercover work. _

He sighed, feeling a tightness in his shoulder. His back was sore from helping the kids carry in all their belongings, his right hand ached from having been shaken by all the parents – some of the kids came with two sets. He had been interested to see that Sunny arrived by herself, driving an older model Honda that she parked in one of the school lots and emptied without asking for assistance. Joe had been grateful for that as it meant he didn't have to make nice to Dr. Park and it let him concentrate on trying to memorize as many of the names and faces of the other parents as he could. _Not in my skill set, but since Robot Man's not back from Paris yet... _He rolled his eyes internally as he stifled a yawn, aware of the forty or so sets of eyes on him. _Gotta love eating with an audience._

His gaze wandered to the five tables set up in the dining hall and the students seated at them, all apparently chattering away while shooting furtive glances at the new teachers. Each table had ten chairs – four on each side, filled with students, and two empty ones at each table's ends. For tonight's opening dinner, the teachers sat at a long head table at the front of the room. Starting tomorrow at breakfast, though, the head table would disappear, and the staff would be sitting with the students.

A loud metallic clanging noise in the dining hall wrenched Joe from his thoughts. Someone had entered the dining hall, managing somehow to trip over something Joe couldn't see, and sent a tray of silverware crashing to the floor. He leaned forward, craning his neck to see over the students many of whom were now standing or craning their necks from their wheelchairs to look at the new arrival with interest and barely-disguised mirth. The figure unfurled from the floor, handfuls of forks and knives in his hands, eyes cast down to the floor, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm, uh, sorry. I didn't mean... I didn't want... I was trying..." The man looked timid, almost fragile, with messy brown hair covering his black, heavy glasses. He wore an ill-fitting long-sleeved shirt and tie despite the summer heat and seemed uncomfortable being the center of attention. He brushed a nervous hand through his hair, revealing a hearing aid tucked behind his left ear, then resettled the glasses on his nose with a surprisingly familiar gesture.

Joe's mouth dropped open, and he shook his head in disbelief as he leaned forward with everyone else. He had never seen Frank look so... so clumsy and unsure of himself. _Damn, 'bro,_ he thought,_ you _are_ good at this._ He leaned back in his chair and took another bite of his dinner as Whitman introduced Frank to the students then brought him around the table to meet the other staff members.

He watched as the older teachers smiled and shook Frank's hand, welcoming him to the school. Kyle Johnson, the current events instructor, nearly fell out of his wheelchair as a high-pitched electronic squeal rang through the room, and Joe chuckled around his food as he watched Frank clap one hand to his left ear, make a quick adjustment to the hearing aid, and stammer out an apology. _The hell with pictures_, Joe thought,_ I'm going to need to get video of this, or no one's going to believe me. _Ekaterina rolled her eyes and shook her head before moving her gaze back to her dinner. Melissa looked as if she was trying to sink further in her chair, and Phillip gripped Melissa's arm tightly, leaning in and whispering to her once Frank had passed. _Interesting..._

When the headmaster got to Joe, he was ready. He put a lazy grin on his face, stood, and clapped Frank solidly on the shoulder, knowing the students in his pod were watching closely. "Nice entrance, man. No way the kids are going to forget tonight."

Frank stumbled back a step. "Yeah," he said, lowering his gaze to the floor. He adjusted his glasses again. "My mother always said I had two left feet."

"The built-in burglar alarm's a nice touch, too." Joe nodded towards the hearing aid and watched as Frank's cheeks turned red. He sighed, trying to figure out how his brother managed that, then shook his head and rolled his eyes, noticing that he had somehow managed to gain another inch or so of height over his brother. "Come on, Tennison. I'll give you the tour of the pod." Frank nodded and followed him from the room.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Once the door to the residence was shut behind them, Frank straightened up and stretched. "That feels better."

Joe flopped down on the couch, his left leg starting to bounce slightly. "I don't get how you can do that to yourself. It looks painful."

Frank simply shrugged. "It just takes practice."

"Did you have a good trip?"

"Fine. Anna says 'hi.'" Frank's eyes swept over the set of rooms. "So, two bedrooms, common living room, shared bathroom. Not bad. What have you set up so far?"

Joe rolled his eyes as he shook his head. "You're in Paris for the weekend, and all I get is 'Anna says hi'? 'Bro, you've got to do better than that. Did you take her to the Eiffel Tower, or did you just spend the weekend at museums?"

"Later." Frank put a hand out. "Did you get the phones?"

"Yeah. Convenience store in the center of town." Joe walked into his room and came out carrying a small cell phone, which he tossed to Frank. "And that's about all there is in town. A couple of pizza places, a Chinese restaurant – don't eat there, by the way. The mom-and-pop breakfast place is pretty good, though. They do great pancakes..." He walked over to the small refrigerator, took out a bottle of iced tea, and removed the cap.

"Terrific," Frank interrupted, "when I get hungry, I'll let you know." He flipped the phone open and examined it carefully. "What can you tell me about the staff?"

Joe took a swig of tea. "Aren't you at all interested in the rural paradise we've found ourselves in?"

Frank raised an eyebrow at him. "I'll take a tour in the morning. We're going to have an audience in a few minutes, so get me up to speed."

"Fine. Whatever." Joe filled him in on what he knew of the other teachers, concentrating on describing the other new arrivals, especially Ekaterina and Phillip. "He seemed kind of freaked out when Whitman said your name. Did you recognize him?"

"He didn't look familiar," Frank answered, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. "Interesting, though. Russian and Chinese? I wonder how much of coincidence that is..."

"Just 'cause those countries have been North Korea's two major backers over the years?" Joe caught Frank's startled glance from the corner of his eye. "What? I pay attention to the news."

"Remind me to send Kara flowers when we get home. I'm sure this is her doing." He let out a breath. "How about the kids? I saw Sunny at one of the tables. Were those ours?"

Joe pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Frank. "Yeah. Short bios are on this. Whitman said he'd get me the names of the rest of the kids tomorrow. He wanted us to get to know ours first."

Frank unfolded the paper. Eight names, each followed by a paragraph or two of description, were typed on the page. There looked to be an even mix of boys and girls. Sunny – the only senior in the group – was the oldest. The other girls – Jennifer Smith, Gwendolyn McIver, and Anala Patel were in sixth, eighth, and tenth grades respectively. Jeff and Kevin Carter – twins from the looks of it – were in seventh grade, and Stefan Malik was a ninth grader. Benjamin Jardinier, the youngest of the group, was in fifth grade. Benjamin was mute, two of the other students were in wheelchairs, one was legally blind, and the rest seemed to have serious learning disabilities.

The sounds of voices, feet, and wheels came closer to the house. Frank tucked his cell phone in his shirt pocket, handed the list back to Joe, and hunched his shoulders back down. "I think we're on. You ready?"

Joe pushed a finger into his brother's face. "Once the kids are in bed, you need to give me details about Paris." Then he shrugged his shoulders and walked over to the door. "Here goes nothing," he said as he threw it open. "House meeting," he yelled over the din of incoming students. "Now."

A small, dark-skinned blur ran into the room, launching itself at Frank, hands flying. Frank stumbled backwards, his hands moving defensively in front of his chest. "Um... Sorry... I don't understand..." The boy's hands stilled, his face taking on a look of surprise, then mild contempt. Frank looked down and swallowed. "I, uh, never learned sign language. My parents wanted me to read lips."

The boy snorted and turned his back on Frank, his hands moving slowly under his chin.

Joe cuffed the boy lightly on the head. "Benjamin, right?" The boy's dark eyes looked up at him suspiciously, one hand making specific formations. "Okay, Benj, then. You need to apologize. That was rude."

Benj's eyes widened, a small smile forming on his face. He made a few gestures in front of Joe.

"I don't even want to know where you learned language like that." Benj's eyes grew wide as Joe knelt down in front of him. "Mr. Tennison, here, might not know sign, but I do." Joe sighed theatrically, throwing a wicked look at Frank. "It's not his fault his parents didn't think it was important."

Benj turned to Frank, made a fist, then moved it in a half-hearted circle in front of his chest. Once that was done, he turned back to Joe, his hands flying again.

"I dated a deaf girl in college. Trying to make sure I had paper all the time got old. And call me Joe. Mr. Miller makes me feel like you're talking to my father." The boy smiled and wandered off to visit with one of the older boys.

Frank gave Joe a level gaze. "You know sign language?"

Joe laughed. "What can I say? I have hidden depths." He turned to the students. "All right. Sit!"

The meeting was short. Joe went over the house rules with the students, then got himself another iced tea while they introduced themselves. Frank stayed mostly in the background until the very end of the meeting when Joe forced him to stand and say something to the group. After stammering through a few sentences about himself, he backed away quickly, tripping over the long, white cane belonging to one of the twins and crashing heavily into Joe. The bottle of iced tea slipped from Joe's hand, spilling the drink down the front of his shirt.

"Hey!" Joe gasped as the cold liquid soaked through the thin fabric and hit his skin. "Geez, Tennison, can't you watch where you're walking?"

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean..." Frank cowered in front of Joe as the students watched open-mouthed from the floor.

As soon as Frank stepped back, Sunny jumped to her feet, her hands clenched into fists. "Don't t.. talk to him that way. It w.. was an accident."

"Whatever." Joe glared at her, then turned to Frank. "Don't freak out on me, man. Just get a towel or something." He peeled the wet shirt off, keeping it pressed to his chest to keep the tea from running down into his pants, and turned to the kids. "Okay, meeting's over. Move along." He waved his hands at them. "Nothing to see here. Everybody out." Slowly, the room emptied. Once the last student filed out, Joe shut the door. "What did you do that for?" he asked, a note of complaint in his voice. "I liked that shirt."

Frank came out of the bathroom, a towel in his outstretched hand. "Why?"

Joe shrugged. "It's comfortable, and it fits Joe Miller's personality." He wiped tea from his chest. "You didn't answer the question, though."

"Setting the stage. The kids need to think we don't like each other," Frank said. "We won't be effective if they see us as a unit. I don't think we need to actively hate each other. Mild contempt will work. Oh, and you might want to watch your tone with the kids. We're supposed to be mentoring them, not bullying them."

"Right," Joe said. "I'll apologize in the morning." He took one more swipe with the towel. "You're not planning on making this a regular thing, are you? Spilling stuff on me, I mean."

Frank yawned and shook his head. "I'll attempt to restrain my more creative impulses in the future. Right now, I need to turn in." Joe gave his brother a puzzled look. "Jet lag. If I'm taking over a school library tomorrow, I need sleep." He headed to one of the bedrooms. "See you in the morning."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was still dark when Joe felt something shaking his shoulder. "Go away," he muttered into his pillow.

"Joe." Frank's voice was in his ear. "Something's wrong with one of the kids."

Joe was instantly awake. "What?"

"It sounds like one of the boys is having a nightmare." There were dark circles under Frank's eyes. "You need to go check."

"Why me?"

Frank rubbed his eyes, and Joe could see how exhausted his brother looked. "I'm supposed to be deaf. It'd be hard to explain how I heard noise at the end of the hallway from here."

"Right." Joe swung his feet off the side of the bed. "I'll take care of it." He watched as Frank ran a hand across his forehead, swaying on his feet. "Go back to sleep, 'bro. You look like you need it."

Frank nodded and disappeared back into his room.

Joe pulled on a shirt as he walked down the hall to the boys' wing of the house. Distressed moans and muffled words in a language he didn't recognize grew louder as he approached the last room on the hall. He pushed the door open to find Benj crying and tangled in his bedclothes, shouting out unintelligible words in his sleep.

He knelt by the child's bed, placing his hands on Benj's arms. "Benj, wake up. Come on, kid, it's just a dream. Wake up. Everything's all right." Gently, he started untangling the sleeping boy from the sheets wound tightly around his small body. "It's okay. You're safe. It's just a dream."

Slowly the boy's eyes opened, his cries subsiding as he became aware of his surroundings. He took a deep, shaky breath, then burst into silent tears, throwing his arms around Joe's neck. Joe froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, then he tightened his arms around Benj's back and rubbed the boy's head. A noise from the door caught his attention.

"Let m.. me." Sunny stood in the doorway. At Joe's puzzled expression, she continued. "Jeff g.. got me. Benj has these a lot." When Joe didn't move, her expression grew annoyed. "I c.. can take c.. care of him." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"It's okay. You can go back to your room," Joe said. Sunny narrowed her eyes, and Joe felt himself getting defensive. "He's okay. Aren't you, buddy?"

Benj wiped his eyes and nodded. /Yeah. I'm sorry./

"No need to apologize. Right, Sunny?"

The girl glared at Joe, the turned to Benj, her gaze softening. "You sure, k.. kidlet?" When Benj nodded, she uncrossed her arms and nodded. "P.. pancakes for breakfast?" Benj answered with a blinding smile. "Okay," she said. As she spoke, her left hand formed the sign for 'I love you.' She smiled when Benj returned the sign to her, then nodded and left the room.

Joe straightened out the sheets and tucked Benj back in. "Can you go back to sleep?"

/Yeah./ He reached up for Joe's hand. /Thank you./

"Any time." Joe put his hand on Benj's shoulder. "Do you want me to stay until you're asleep?" Benj nodded, a look of relief on his face. "I'll keep you safe, buddy." Within minutes, the boy's breathing had slowed and deepened, his eyes closing peacefully. Joe sat with him for a while, worried about the violence of the dream and wanting to make sure the nightmare didn't return. The last time he had seen someone react that strongly to a dream had been Frank in the months after his recovery from Hansen's basement. If Benj had these dreams often... _What happened to this kid?_ Joe thought, laying a hand on the boy's head. Finally, he stood and went back to his room, resolving to talk to the headmaster in the morning.


	5. Five

_Late October_

_Friday morning 5am_

* * *

It was just before sunrise when Joe woke Benj and Sunny and bundled them off the bus.

Benj rubbed his eyes, then blinked a few times. /How come we're at the university?/ he signed. /Are we catching another bus back to Deerfield?/

Joe shook his head. "We're staying here for a while." He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open.

"Are you c.. calling Frank?" Sunny's gaze traveled up the skyscraper-tall residence halls, then back down to their doors where hundreds of college students were emerging for breakfast and classes.

"No. His phone may have been compromised. I can't take the chance that we might alert the bad guys to our location." He blew out a frustrated breath, shoving the phone back in his pocket. "Damn. The battery's dead. Piece of junk. _My _phone can go three or four days between charges." He looked around at the dorms. "Which one?" he muttered.

"Y.. your phone?" Sunny's eyes narrowed. "T.. that's n.. not your ph.. phone?"

"It's a pay-as-you-go," he said, his gaze steady. "I picked it up at the store in the center of town my first week here. Frank and I didn't want anyone tracing us through our real phones."

/Then who _are_ you trying to reach?/ Benj's stomach growled. /Can we get some breakfast here?/

Joe's lips quirked up into a faint smile. "Soon, buddy." He sighed. "I'm trying to reach Sarah. I don't remember what dorm she lives in. I remember her saying it wasn't one of the low-rises, so that narrows it down to these five." He rubbed a hand over his face then gestured to the towers in the center of the area. "I'm just pleased I remembered she lived in Southwest."

"J.. JQA," Sunny said. "F.. fourteenth floor." Benj looked up at her, and she shrugged her shoulders. "I asked. I f.. figured it would drive my m.. mother c.. crazy if I went to UMASS and l.. lived here. She's expecting me t.. to g.. go to MIT like she and dad d.. did."

Joe's smile grew wider as he considered that. "You're probably right." Despite the hour, music started blaring from a window high above them. "I'd try a different part of campus though. I imagine it's hard to get a lot of studying done here." He rolled his eyes as what he had just said registered in his brain. "Great, now I sound like Frank." He sighed and shifted his weight to relieve the pressure on his ankle, which was starting to throb as again. "We need to get in before too many people see us. Which one's JQA?"

Benj pointed. /That one. See the banner?/ He tugged on Joe's jacket and pointed up to a large burgundy banner attached vertically to the side of the building. /Come on. I'm hungry./

They walked to the dorm's main entrance, and Sunny reached out a hand to one of the double doors. "L.. locked." She pointed with her chin to a small, black box attached to the building's brick facade. "You need a swipe c.. card."

Joe's shoulders sagged, and he shifted his weight off his foot again. "All right. Professionally, I appreciate the upgraded security, but right now I was hoping for something a little easier to get into." A motion inside the darkened vestibule caught his eye, and he straightened. "Here's our chance. Benj, get a few steps behind me. It's dark enough, we might be able to get away with this. Pull up your hood, and put your hands in your pockets. Try to look sullen." He turned to Sunny. "Do you trust me?"

"What?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Just pretend you're into me." He slung an arm around Sunny's shoulders and pulled her closer.

"_What_?"

The door swung open, and Joe grabbed the handle with his free hand. The guy coming out stopped, blocking the entry. "You gotta swipe your ID, man." He looked to be in his late teens, with disheveled black hair and blue eyes bleary with not enough sleep.

"Dude, can you give me hand?" Joe slurred his words and slouched against Sunny, doing his best to imitate someone who'd been doing a bit too much celebrating. It wasn't hard; he was getting tired. "I'm.." he swallowed hard, pretending he needed to think about his next words, "visiting. My sister lives here, and I'm trying to dump the kid brother" – he indicated Benj with a dismissive motion – "so I can get some alone with this lovely lady here, you know?" He was relieved when Sunny giggled, sounding like she didn't have a brain in her head, and leaned in closer to him.

A gleam appeared in the student's eyes. "I understand completely. After you, madmoiselle." Sunny gave him a bright smile as he held the door open for her.

Joe turned around to Benj. "C'mon, runt," he said, grabbing the boy roughly by the arm. He could feel Benj starting to tremble.

As they entered the vestibule, the guy leaned toward Joe and stage-whispered, "Happy to help out, man. She's _hot._ Have fun." Then he left, the door clicking locked behind him.

Joe turned, dropping Benj's arm and waved. When he was sure the guy was out of sight he turned to Sunny. "Sorry about that. I'm really not a pervert. I swear." Sunny snorted and rolled her eyes at him. He swung around to Benj. "You did great," he said. He pushed the boy's hood from his head and was startled to see tears in his eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice full of concern. He knelt so he was at eye level with the child. "We're going to locate Sarah, and then I'll find you that burger I promised you. You're doing fantastic, buddy."

There was a pause before Benj responded, his lips pressed together tightly. /You sounded like my brother back there./ His hands were still trembling as he signed. /He doesn't want me around, either./

"You have a brother? And he talks to you like that?" Joe tried to remember if he'd even seen any photos of him in Benj's room. There were a few on the walls that showed Benj in various exotic locations with his parents, a handsome looking white couple in their late forties or early fifties – Joe didn't remember meeting them on move-in day – but no pictures of any other family members. "Then he's an idiot." The words came without any thought. Joe put his hands on the Benj's shoulders; he could feel the boy shaking. "I'd kill to have you for a little brother." Benj's eyes grew round. "Well, not literally kill," he amended, seeing the look on Benj's face. "I'm one of the good guys, remember? But you know what I mean."

/Really?/

Joe made an 'x' on his chest. "Cross my heart." He drew Benj to him for a quick hug. "When this is over, I'm going to have a talk with that brother of yours. Once that's done, if he's still being stupid, you can be _my_ little brother. I've always wanted one." When he pulled away, he was relieved to see Benj's body relax, his eyes shining. "Come on. Let's go find Sarah." Joe felt one of Benj's hands slip into his own, and a fierce protective feeling surged through him, followed by an intense desire to find Benj's brother and whack him. Hard. With a two-by-four. _Frank and I may have gotten on each other's nerves sometimes growing up, but I _never _felt like he wanted to get rid of me. This kid sounds like he needs his head examined._

They rode the elevator to the fourteenth floor. When they got out, Sunny looked at Joe. "How are we g.. going to f.. find out which one is hers?"

"We ask someone." She looked him up and down, sweeping over him with a gaze reminiscent of the one her mother had used at their first meeting. He leaned against the wall in what he hoped was a casual manner, the exhaustion he had been holding back suddenly rushing over him in a wave. "Do you have a better idea?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. _I_ ask. Right now, you l.. look like a psycho k.. killer."

"I look like a what?" If he hadn't been so tired, he would have been seriously offended.

Benj giggled silently. /She's right, Joe. You're a mess./

"Thanks, you two. Remind me to say something nice about you sometime." He sighed and waved Sunny away. "Fine. Go. We'll wait here." He sank to the floor, tipped his head back against the wall, and closed his eyes. A few moments passed, and there was a tug on his sleeve. He cracked his eyes back open.

/Did you mean it?/

"Mean what, buddy?" Now that he had the kids somewhere relatively safe and they weren't moving, it was getting hard to stay awake. Right now, the only thing that kept him that way was knowing he'd have to stand up again in a few minutes.

/About being my brother?/

Joe blinked, suddenly alert. "Of course, I did."

Benj nodded. /Okay.../ His hands fell to his sides as they heard a noise.

Joe looked up, startled. Sunny had returned, sooner than he thought she would be and stood in front of them, a smug look on her face.

"It's room f.. fourteen f.. fourteen."

"How'd you find out so fast?"

Sunny twisted her hands through her hair, pulling it back into a shaggy ponytail. "There was a g.. girl in the b.. bathroom. I t.. told her w.. we had a c.. class together, and I n.. needed n.. notes for a test t.. today." She lifted her chin and took a deep breath. "I did it..." – another breath – "without stuttering."

Joe could see the pride in her eyes. "Good job. No one else saw you?" She shook her head. He forced himself to his feet, grinding his teeth together at the pain. "Let's go wake her up." He placed a hand on Benj's shoulder. "Can you give me hand getting there?" The boy's answering grin was like a burst of sunshine, and Joe made a mental note to ask him more about his older brother once they were settled. A voice inside his head was telling him there was something Benj wasn't saying. _Or can't_, he thought, _but something's not right._

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Saturday night 10pm_

* * *

"_You just don't care, do you?" Frank could hear the angry voice echoing through the halls as the elevator door opened. He sighed and resettled the overloaded backpack on his shoulder as he stepped out, pausing for a moment to decide if was worth heading to the room to change, or if he should just turn around again. Then more water dripped down his neck. He sighed again and started walking down the hall. If he hadn't gotten caught in that rainstorm, he'd be at the library right now, where it was quiet and peaceful rather than here where he could feel his blood pressure rising just by standing outside his door. One of his floormates passed by on his way to the bathroom and gave him a sympathetic grimace. _

_The tension on the floor and in his room was becoming more difficult to ignore. _If it doesn't let up soon, it's going to start affecting my grades,_ Frank thought. In an effort to retain some measure of control over his sanity, he had taken to spending as much time as he could either in the library or the computer lab, returning to his room only to sleep, shower, and change clothes. As much as he hated to admit it, he was avoiding his roommate._

_Roger had come back from the first-night party drunk and angry at the world. The drunkenness had passed, but the anger remained, constantly simmering just below the boiling point. Any effort to help with research or information was met with a snarling rebuff or a scathing comment about how nice it must be for Frank not to have to worry about the future. After three years of living together with no conflicts, other than an ongoing, friendly competition over their GPAs, Frank didn't know how to deal with this new, combative Roger. Frank didn't want to abandon his friend, but he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take before asking for a transfer to another room._

_He took a deep breath and silently opened the door, the tension in the room rolling over him like fog as he entered. Roger stood, his back to the door, one shoulder hunched and holding the phone to his ear, the other hand gesticulating wildly. _

"_Fine! If that's how you want it, then don't call here anymore." The phone rang as Roger slammed the receiver back down. "Damn it!" He sank into a chair, pushing his head into his hands. _

_Frank stood for a moment, listening to his roommate's ragged breathing. With a start, he realized Roger was crying. "Rog? You okay?" Talking to his friend as if the past few weeks hadn't happened was difficult, but he pushed aside any feelings of discomfort, wanting to offer what help he could. "Who was that?"_

"_Parents." Roger's voice was muffled. Keeping his back to Frank, he lifted his head, surreptitiously wiping his face with the back of his hand. Frank pretended not to notice._

"_Are they back in the states?" Roger shook his head. Frank eased his backpack to the floor and grabbed a towel. "What did they want?"_

_Roger let out a shaky breath. "To let me know they've chosen their 'pet project' over their son."_

"_What?" Frank froze, the towel halfway to his face. "That can't be right." Roger's words didn't mesh with what he knew of Peter and Emily. The Gardners' visits to the Utica campus were infrequent, but each time they came, Frank could see how proud they were of their son._

"_Why not? Just because you have the perfect family," the mocking, angry tone was back again, "doesn't mean everyone else is as lucky." Roger stood, the chair's legs scraping loudly on the floor._

"_Nobody's family is perfect." Even as the words left his mouth, Frank knew they were the wrong ones, just as he knew nothing he said right now would be correct. He watched as Roger's eyes widened, his friend's hands shaking as they formed tight fists by his side._

"_You make me sick. You don't even know how lucky you are!" His left fist flew towards Frank's face, missing his chin by less than an inch. As Frank swerved to avoid a second punch, Roger barreled past him, pushing him to the floor as he ran out of the room._

_Frank's mouth dropped open. He heard footsteps and voices in the hall. "Hardy, are you okay? What happened?"_

"_I'm not sure."_

_The number of people in the hall increased. "Sounds like Gardner went off his nut," one voice said. "Are you hurt? Do you need me to call campus security?"_

"_No." Frank shook his head, answering both questions. "He's... upset. He got some bad news. I'll talk to him when he gets back."_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Frank?" The voice sounded like it was coming from another room. "Wake up. You're going to pull out your IV if you don't stop moving."

"Chet? What are you...?" He stopped, his eyes taking in the hospital room. "Right." He closed his eyes and let out a breath.

"You okay?"

Frank chose not to answer the question. The dream had been so vivid, he was shocked not to find himself in his dorm room. "Any word on Joe?"

"No." Chet's tone made Frank open his eyes. "It's pouring out there right now, and the temperature's dropping. If he's out there with those kids..."

"Where's Kara?"

"She's in charge of the search. She's having to keep it small so word doesn't get out before her time is up on that Amber alert." Chet stood, a flat paper bag in his hand. "Anyway, Dr. Finley suggested I get you this. Actually, he suggested a laptop. Kara picked it up for me, but I don't know your password, and I wasn't sure... I figured low-tech would be okay for right now." He emptied the package on the wheeled table by Frank's bed; it contained a notebook and mechanical pencil. "I know you prefer those for writing."

"How...?" Frank started to shake his head, wincing as his collarbone protested the motion.

"I'm your office manager." Chet's tone was patient. "You order a box of these every few months. Generally after Joe loses them all." He smiled. "And I went to school with you for twelve years. I may not be in your league when it comes to brains, boss, but after all that time even I couldn't help noticing what kind of writing implement you like."

Frank picked up the pencil. "So what do I do?"

Chet shrugged. "My guess is he wants you to let your mind wander. See what's in your subconscious."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Frank pushed the paper off the table with a frustrated gesture. It landed with a thump on the floor. "I feel stupid. I should be out there looking for Joe, not sitting here doodling."

"No." Chet's voice took on an uncharacteristic note of command. "This is your job, and you're going to do it. Even if I have to sit on you to keep you here." His lips quirked up into a half-smile. "I know that's not as big a threat as it used to be, but with that broken leg and those ribs, I may stand a chance."

"I need to be out there. I need to be doing something." Frustration was starting to turn to anger.

"You _are_ doing something. You're working on getting information out of that oversized brain of yours." Chet leaned down and picked the notebook up from the floor. "This is where you'll be doing the most good."

"No. It's not." The words came from between Frank's clenched teeth. "I should be there. I know how Joe thinks."

"So does Kara."

The calm tone of Chet's voice set off Frank's temper. "Not like I do." He was practically shouting now. "Just get me there, and I'll find him myself!"

Chet took a deep breath. "I'm going to be blunt here, Frank. With your injuries, you'd be a liability. Getting you there and around would waste time Kara needs for the search." He placed the notebook back on the table. "Look, I know how much you want to help..."

Words shot out of Frank's mouth without any thought. "If it was Iola, you'd want to be there, liability or not."

He heard Chet's sharp intake of breath, saw his hand freeze over the notebook, watched as his friend's expression darkened, shifting from shock to a momentary grief before hardening into a mask of blank neutrality. All traces of compassion and patience were gone. A small part of his brain registered the fact he'd just said something unforgivable, something that never would have crossed his mind in normal circumstances. But this wasn't a normal situation, and Chet didn't seem to understand how badly he needed to be there. For himself as much as for Joe.

Chet's hand dropped to his side. "I think I'll go for a walk. Get some air." His voice was devoid of emotion. "I'll check back later." The door closed silently behind him.

Frank sat for a moment, his breathing uneven. "Fine," he shouted at the door. "I don't need your help. I'll get there myself."

His hands moved quickly and methodically, removing the sensors from his chest, the cuff from his arm, the IV tube from the blue plastic holder taped to his hand. He shifted and started to swing his legs over the side of the bed, grunting as his leg bumped against the mattress, the velcro of the navy blue soft cast getting caught on the cotton slubs of the blanket. Ribs protesting and shoulder screaming, he forced himself into an upright position, almost falling face first as a wave of dizziness swept over him. He closed his eyes and focused on trying to regain his equilibrium.

Images flashed through his brain – Joe running toward the burning car the day Iola died; Joe lying pale and still on a floor, blood pouring from wounds in his chest and shoulder; Joe shouting something at him in a forest, an Asian teenaged girl and a younger African-American boy standing behind him, their faces shocked and frightened. He stumbled back against the bed, his breath coming in short gasps, his mind whirling from the sudden onslaught of memories.

The door flew open, and the male nurse from the previous evening rushed into the room. "What the hell is going on in here? Your friend practically ran past the desk then you flat-lined." He regarded Frank with suspicious eyes. "Just what do you think you're doing out of bed?"

"I'm leaving." Frank's voice was as hard as he could make it through the gulps of air.

"Really?" The man raised an eyebrow. "Okay, don't let me stop you from trying. What's left of your clothes are over there." He nodded to a small chest of drawers to the right of the door and folded his arms across his stomach.

Frank pushed himself off the bed, and shuffled forward a few steps, the exertion making his breath come hard, the motion exacerbating the pain in his ribs. He glared at the nurse and wrapped his left arm around his chest. One foot, two feet, five feet. A sense of exultation filled his brain; he was going to make it. Then, without warning, the room started growing blurry, the floor suddenly seeming much too close. He felt hands grabbing his upper arms and was dimly aware of being half-dragged, half-carried back to the bed.

"Stubborn kid, aren't you? Made it farther than I thought, though." The nurse reconnected the monitors to Frank's chest and arms. "You all right?"

Frank turned his head to the window, his face red with anger, his jaw tight. _I can't even walk across the damn room. Who do I think I could help?_

"I'll bring you some pain meds in a few minutes, the man said. "I imagine you need them after that stunt."

As the door closed, Frank could feel hot tears forming and squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to keep them from falling. After two or three shaky breaths, he opened his eyes and looked at the empty room. _Now I know how Roger feels_, he thought, _powerless and angry because of it._ He thought of Chet, of the look on his friend's face as he left the room. The knot in his chest tightened, a sense of shame beginning to creep over him. _And I'm treating him the same way Roger's been treating me. _

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Frank lay in bed and stared out the window into the darkness, the pencil grasped loosely in his right hand, the notepad open on the table in front of him. The medication the nurse had given him had not only dulled the pain, it had dampened down the intense anger he had felt, leaving him feeling drained, empty, and deeply ashamed of himself.

The door cracked open, and Frank could see Chet's reflection in the window. He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling like it was full of sand, and looked down, not knowing what to say.

"You all right?" Chet's voice had a tentative quality Frank hadn't heard since they were teenagers. "That nurse, Tom, grabbed me on the way by the nurses' station. He told me what you did."

Frank shrugged, keeping his eyes turned away. He wanted to answer, but each time he tried, he could feel his face turn red with embarrassment, so instead he kept his gaze on the window, his hand idly moving across the paper.

"When did Roger grow a beard?" Frank turned his head. He hadn't realized Chet had moved so close. Chet picked the notebook up from the table and stared at the open page. He looked up at Frank. "And why didn't I know you could draw? I've known you since we were... what, five? How could I not know you were an artist?" His tone was light, but Frank could hear the strain under the words.

"I'm not..."

"Please, Frank." He handed the notebook back. "I know I only met Roger a couple of times, but that's him." He pointed at a figure in the middle of the page. "I just don't remember him with a beard. Did he grow it the summer before senior year?"

Frank ran a hand over his forehead, then moved it down to rub his eyes, which felt like they were on fire. "No. He's still clean-shaven. I don't..."

"Maybe it's got to do with those dreams you've been having. Or maybe you're remembering something about the guy who attacked you?" Chet picked up the notepad again. "Look at him. He looks like he's about to rush you."

"I don't... I don't know. I don't remember." The angry tone started creeping back into his voice.

Chet pressed his lips together, then let out a long breath. "Look. Frank..."

"I'm sorry." Frank's voice was barely above a whisper.

"What?"

"I said, I'm sorry."

"It's okay." The words were clipped, brittle.

"No. It's not. I had no right to say that to you." He took a deep breath. "I can't seem to control my emotions. I can't..." He took another breath, trying to keep his voice steady. "I hate this."

Chet let out a soft snort. "You don't like anything you're not in control of. You never have." His shoulders relaxed, and a faint smile lightened his expression. "Look, you've had a long day. Why don't you try to get some sleep? I told Kara I'd call and let her know how you're doing." He turned off the light over Frank's bed. "I'll step into the hall so you can rest. I'll come back as soon as I'm done."

Frank leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes. Before Chet had even left the room, he was asleep again.


	6. Six

_Late September_

* * *

"Frank, have you got a minute?"

The voice was female, light and shy, and it dragged Frank from the review journals he had been immersed in and were spread all over the couch. Selecting books for a diverse group of students was proving to be more difficult – and much more interesting – than he had anticipated.

He lifted his head to see Melissa Chang in the doorway. "Uh, Melissa. Yeah. Come in. Please." He stood and moved a pile of Joe's laundry out of the way so she could maneuver her wheelchair into the living room. "Um. What can I do for you?" He sat back down, readjusting his glasses as he did so, and waited for her to talk.

She mirrored his movement, lifting and resettling her own glasses, then smiled at him. "I wanted to thank you." Frank tilted his head to the side, indicating he didn't understand her. "Your book group. The discussions in my Junior/Senior literature class have become much more... lively... since your group started."

Frank looked down at the floor, one hand rubbing the ear with his hearing aid. Truthfully, he had started the group in self-defense. Sunny and several of the other upperclass girls had taken to spending their free periods in the media center, ostensibly doing work, but mostly just hanging around, watching him. It had gotten to the point that Joe had taken to teasing him about his harem. He hadn't wanted to tell Sunny to leave – having her in the library was one way of keeping an eye on her – but was definitely feeling the need to engage her in another way.

"Some of the boys were in the media center complaining about the reading list," he muttered. "I wanted to show them how wonderful Austen could be." He shrugged. "I offered to show them the Emma Thompson adaptation of _Sense and Sensibility_ so we could compare it to the book, and most of the girls crashed the evening. It sort of ballooned from there."

"Whatever you're doing keep it up. Even the boys are paying more attention now." A smile brightened Melissa's face. "And truthfully, I love that movie. It's one of the few I've seen that keeps the spirit of the book without getting..." she broke off, considering her words.

"Wooden?"

Her smile grew wider. "I was thinking 'boring,'" she admitted. "Your word choice is more tactful." She wheeled her chair farther into the room. "How are you liking Pocumtuck?"

"I'm enjoying it here," Frank said. And he meant it. Working with the students was surprisingly gratifying, and making sure the library was organized with all the texts accessible to the students satisfied the anal-retentive part of him that liked to bring order out of chaos. "And you?"

"I love it here." A wistful expression covered her face. "I wish I'd been able to go to a school like this. It would have made growing up a lot easier." She turned her gaze toward the window. "The facilities are amazing. These kids are so lucky."

"What was your school like?"

Melissa wrinkled her nose. "I grew up in Chicago. Public school the whole way. My folks wouldn't have had the money for something like this."

_Interesting_, Frank thought. "What about college?"

"Illinois State University. English." She laughed, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. "Well, of course, English."

Frank cleared his throat, and started straightening up his papers. "Is that where you met Phillip?"

Melissa nodded. "He was in the school of Information Technology doing his master's. His thesis was on a new type of more sophisticated voice-recognition software. He and some of his classmates started a business after graduation."

"What, um, brought you here?"

Her face fell. "The economy. The business failed." A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Between what we owed on the business and our student loans, working somewhere that provided room and board started looking extremely attractive." She sighed. "I don't think Phillip is very happy, but I like it here." A loud beeping noise came from the bag on the back of her chair. "Goodness, is it four already? I told Phillip I'd meet him for some tea. Anyway, thank you again."

Frank listened as her chair rolled down the hall and out of the pod. As the outside door closed, he let out a long breath. _They're in debt. Interesting._ _I wonder just how far Phillip's willing to go to erase that debt._

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

For Joe, the school year settled quickly into a routine. With the exception of Ekaterina, the other teachers were friendly and helpful, the quietness of the area grew much more appealing, and the kids were great. Trying to come up with physical fitness routines that all of them could do despite their various disabilities challenged him in ways he hadn't considered and kept him awake several nights running when he ran out of ideas. Fortunately, on his third week, he found he had inherited a student intern from the University of Massachusetts, a twenty-year-old sport management major named Sarah with short, blonde hair that she kept in two tiny ponytails on either side of her head, pale blue eyes the color of a summer sky, and extremely impressive biceps. The kids adored her, and she was able to train with them in ways that Joe Miller couldn't due to his heart condition. _My heart condition_, Joe had to keep reminding himself.

His original estimation of Sunny had been correct; she was a runner, and she spent much of her time running away from him. Her initial protective stance towards Frank had settled into a noticeable crush, and that, combined with her frustration at being edged out as Benj's protector, ensured her attitude toward Joe was only ever barely civil. While it made keeping an eye on her difficult at times, he found a perverse enjoyment in popping up at odd times, surprising and annoying her. It was almost as much fun pushing her buttons as it was pushing Frank's. He made himself behave most of the time, though, as he knew he couldn't push her too far away.

Walking toward the library after yet another dinner Frank had missed, Joe frowned. If he was honest with himself, his brother was worrying him. Frank seemed to be settling in, but there was something off, something Joe couldn't quite put his finger on. He had spent a few days fishing for news of Frank's trip, but had finally given up as his brother somehow managed to change the subject each time the word 'Paris' came up in conversation. At first he thought his brother must be suffering from jet lag or was maybe coming down with a cold or something, but as the weeks passed and Frank spent evenings cataloging books for the students and extensive weekend hours playing complex role-playing games with them, he began to think his brother was not only avoiding him but was hiding something.

This impression was reinforced by Frank's attitude toward the tabloid magazines the kids started bringing in featuring stories about movie and television stars, generally featuring pictures of Anna and her co-stars prominently on the front covers. Each time he saw a student with one, Joe saw his eyes flash with a look less characteristic of Frank Tennison and more like Frank Hardy, and as the headlines surrounding Anna's movie became more prominent and even more outlandish, he watched Frank's expression turn stormy when he thought no one could see.

Now, as he pushed open the door to the media center, he found his brother standing in front of some books scattered on a table, staring moodily into space, his brown eyes looking like agates behind the dark frames of his glasses.

Joe shook his head. Frank hadn't even heard him enter the room. "Okay, I've had about enough of this." Frank jumped at the sudden sound in the silence. "What happened in Paris?"

Frank glared through his glasses. "I told you. Nothing. Anna said..."

"Yeah, I know, she said 'hi.' You've been amazingly close-mouthed about the whole trip. Even for you." Joe could hear the edge in his voice. "Save some time, and just tell me what happened so we can go back to our regularly scheduled evening, okay?" Frank ignored him, turning away and reaching for the books. He put out a hand and clamped down on his brother's arm. "Frank. _What happened?_"

"Nothing." The word came from between clenched teeth. Frank wrenched his arm from Joe's grasp, grabbed the books, and turned toward wheeled cart on the other side of the room.

"You know," Joe could feel anger rising in his gut, "contrary to popular belief, I'm not an idiot. The only thing we've talked about since you've been back is this case, and when you're not with the kids or doing your bumbling librarian routine with the staff, you've got about as much personality as a thundercloud." He took a breath to steady his voice and pulled out his phone. "So, either _you're_ going to tell me what happened in Paris, or I'm calling Phil to ask_ him_."

"Phil?" Frank whirled around to face his brother, the books still in his arms. "Why Phil?"

Joe rolled his eyes. "You must be talking to _someone_ – even you couldn't go this long without telling somebody what happened – and you're sure as hell not talking to me. I'd call Anna, but I don't have her number in this phone. Phil's number I have memorized."

For the first time in several weeks, the hard look in Frank's eyes softened. He looked down. "Phil doesn't know anything, and before you ask, neither does Chet."

Joe picked up a pencil from the table and started twirling it around his fingers, his anger dampening down but still simmering. "Okay, then. I'm waiting. What happened? Did you guys have a fight?" He found that hard to believe, but something had to be behind Frank's sullenness.

"I told you. Nothing." Frank turned away from Joe's look of exasperation and started sorting books onto the cart. "I barely saw her, all right? The film's running over budget and behind schedule. I did some sight-seeing – alone – and spent the evenings watching them re-shoot scenes. The one afternoon she wasn't working, we ran into one of the other actors, and he ended up joining us for dinner."

The pencil stilled as Joe's eyes widened in shock. "He crashed your date? Not cool. I'm surprised you didn't tell him where to go."

Frank let out a breath. "It wasn't a date, we were just grabbing something to bring back to her place for dinner before yet another night of filming. He'd just found out rather publicly that his girlfriend had dumped him for someone else." His voice took on a wooden tone. "He needed a friend. Apparently, he considers Anna a friend."

Joe's eyes narrowed. "His girlfriend..." A headline from the gossip magazine he had confiscated from Anala in gym class the other day suddenly flared in his mind. "Eric Michaels?" He whistled. "He's a good-looking guy."

"Of course he is. He's a movie star." Frank's voice was devoid of emotion, his hands still mechanically sorting books. "Just like she is." His voice dropped to a near-whisper.

"And you don't trust her?" Joe couldn't keep the note of disbelief out of his voice. Anyone who saw Frank and Anna together could see how much they belonged that way, how crazy she was about him and just how much Frank adored her. With Anna, Joe saw a side of his older brother he hadn't seen in years, someone who laughed for no reason and didn't always have his face stuck in a book or a computer program.

"What? No. Of course, I trust her." Frank looked up, a book clutched in his hand, and Joe saw something unexpected in his brown eyes. Something he had rarely ever seen there – uncertainty. "It's me."

"You lost me on that one, 'bro. You don't trust yourself? What _you're_ going to cheat on _her_? With who? Ekaterina?" Frank's jaw clenched, and Joe backed away a few feet. "I'm joking. You lost me. Rather than glare at me, why don't you just explain?"

Frank's eyes grew distant, the book in his hand forgotten. "She could be with anyone..." His voice trailed off.

"Yeah, she could. And she chose you." Joe tilted his head to one side, understanding flooding through his brain. "And you don't get it." A broad grin covered his face. "Wow, you really _are_ human. I was beginning to wonder."

"I beg your pardon?" Frank's eyes hardened and his voice held an icy edge.

Joe took another step back, his hands held out in front of him. "That was a compliment." He waited for a moment for his older brother's expression to clear. "We all think that." Frank raised an eyebrow, his knuckles turning white as pressure increased on the book. Joe gulped and held up one finger. "Badly worded. Let me try again. I didn't mean about you being human. We all wonder why they choose us." He laughed quietly. "I mean, would you have ever thought Kara would be interested in me?" Frank stared at him for a moment, then shook his head, his shoulders relaxing into something like Tennison's usual slump. Joe let out a relieved breath. "Good, now why don't you put the book down before you punch your fingers through the binding."

"F.. Frank, is everything okay? You didn't come to d.. dinner." Sunny's voice came from the doorway, and Joe could see she held a covered plate in her hand.

Joe watched as Frank struggled to push his feelings aside and take on Tennison's mannerisms again. "Sure... I'm fine," he finally stammered. "Do you, um, need something?"

Sunny marched up to Joe, pointing a finger at him. "Wh.. what are you d.. doing here?" Her eyes flickered to Frank's somewhat shell-shocked expression. "What d.. did you d.. do to him?"

"Nothing." Joe opened his hands and put on an expression of complete innocence. "Mr. Tennison and I were just having a discussion." He flashed an impudent grin at her. "I gave him something to think about." He turned to the side, locking his eyes onto Frank's. "We'll continue this later."

Frank gave him a reluctant nod. "Sure. Later." The tone in his voice indicated his brain was moving a hundred miles a minute, working on deciphering what he had just heard.

Joe smiled as he left, wishing he had hooked the library into his surveillance system. The next few minutes were likely to be very interesting, and he was sorry to have to miss it.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Convincing Sunny to leave had been almost impossible. The turmoil in Frank's mind left him barely able to complete a coherent sentence, and once or twice he had nearly fallen out of character trying to order her out, but finally he managed to make her believe he had work to do that couldn't wait which was why he seemed so scattered. Once she was gone, he settled in to catalog the boxes of new books that had come in that day. If he left too soon, he knew she would be waiting in the dorm's common area to interrogate him, and once she finished with him, Joe would be sitting in their suite not-so-patiently awaiting his turn. Frank wasn't ready to face either of them. Joe's words had both reassured and unsettled him, and he needed more time to process the information, to get his emotions back under control.

He started working on the pile of books, the rhythm of the copy cataloging process calming him while leaving his mind free to think until a sound from the hall attracted his attention. The tapping of a cane on the tiles alerted him that someone else was in the building. He glanced up at the clock on the wall, realizing with a start it was nearly eleven o'clock at night.

The footsteps passed the library's entrance, then stopped. Frank lifted his head, waiting for the next sound. The only things past the library's entrance were the janitor's supply closet and the network server room, and the chances were that someone who needed a cane wasn't planning on spending time in either of those locations at this time of night. He waited, eyes trained on the door, and heard the tapping start again as the person turned around, then stop right in front of his door.

It wouldn't be a student – _Too late for them to be out. It's past curfew. _– so that left three possible visitors. Claire Higgins, one of the reading instructors and Ekaterina's co-house parent, Headmaster Whitman's wife Elaine who was legally blind, and Phillip Chang. _And are they looking for a book, or for me?_ He dropped his head back down over the computer keyboard as the door creaked open.

"Tennison?" The voice was soft in tone, male, and lightly accented. Phillip's voice. Frank kept still, his head bent down, and watched from over the top of his glasses as Phillip moved tentatively through the room. The computer's hard drive whirred, and Phillip's head turned toward the noise. "Tennison, are you here?" This time he spoke louder, his voice echoing slightly off the shelves.

Frank jumped as if startled, knocking a small stack of books to the floor. "Phillip?" An earsplitting electronic whine split the air. "Ow. Hold on." Wincing slightly, he clapped his left hand to his head and made an adjustment to his hearing aid. "Sorry. Um. What can I do for you?"

Phillip's face held an expression of contempt. "You can drop the act."

"What.. what act?" Frank stooped down and picked up the books, his mind working furiously. "I.. I don't know what.. what you mean."

"Yes, you do." Phillip's voice was hard and cold. "Does the name Derek Peterson mean anything to you?"

Frank froze. Derek had been one of the other hackers working for Edward Hansen, the one whose sudden disappearance had resulted in Frank's capture the last time he had used the Tennison identity. Slowly he raised himself to a standing position, placing the books on the table with an audible thud. "No," he said, working hard to keep his voice even with the lie. "Is..," he cleared his throat, "is he a student here? I haven't, um, quite learned all their names yet."

The computer science teacher remained still, the lights in the room reflecting off his sunglasses, and Frank found himself wondering if he really was blind, or if he was playing a part as well. "He was my roommate in college, my first friend in this country."

Frank's hand involuntarily curled into a fist. With a conscious effort, he relaxed it and laid it on the stack of books. "Was? What, um, what happened to him?"

"I don't know. He disappeared." There was genuine sorrow underscoring the anger in Phillip's voice. "It was several years ago. But in our last few conversations your name was mentioned. Several times." He dragged his cane across the floor, gripping it tightly in his hand. "I have no illusions about my friend, Tennison. I know not all of his endeavors were above-board, but he was a good man. A good friend. And he didn't trust you." There was a pause. "Neither do I."

"Phillip, I.."

"Don't." Phillip put up a hand to stop Frank's words. "I have no proof that you aren't what you say you are. I won't go to Headmaster with my suspicions. Yet. But I will be monitoring you, paying very close attention to what you do, especially around the students. You may have fooled everyone else here, but I know. You're dangerous."

Frank let out a breath. "I'm no danger to the students. I give you my word."

"We'll see." The cane started tapping as Phillip moved away. "And, Tennison? One more thing." With one hand on the door, he turned his head slightly to the right. "Stay away from my wife."

The door thumped closed behind him, and Frank stood, listening as the tapping sound disappeared down the hall. He let out a long breath, took off his glasses, and rubbed his forehead. "Damn."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Joe, wake up."

"Mmph." Joe cracked open an eye. Light from the living room cast an odd glow on the room, and he squinted against the brightness to look at his clock. Two in the morning. He huffed out a breath. "Go away. I'm in the middle of a great dream. Kara in a bikini. Mostly..." As he eyes started to drift shut again, the pillow suddenly disappeared from the bed, forcing his head to thump down on the mattress and his eyes to fly open. "Hey!"

"We've got problems." Frank's voice was quiet.

"Is Benj having another nightmare? I didn't hear anything." There had been a couple since the first night, and each time he had woken as soon as the wailing had started. Headmaster Whitman had shown him the boy's file, but information about his background was nearly non-existent, limited to his parents' names and that he'd been homeschooled until a year ago, having lived in a surprising number of exotic locations before coming to Pocumtuck. Given that Benj's nightmares caused him to scream in his sleep, his inability to speak seemed to stem from some sort of psychological trauma in his past, but Joe hadn't been able to get him to open up about the cause.

Frank shook his head, his expression grim.

"Then what is it?" Joe rubbed his eyes and looked at his brother. "Why are you still dressed? And give me back my pillow."

"I've been checking the cameras, monitoring the feed." Joe could see his brother's eyes held a worried look. Frank pulled off his glasses and ran a hand over his forehead. "My cover's been compromised."

"What?!" Joe sprang into a sitting position, now wide awake.

"Partially, at least." Frank sat heavily on the side of Joe's bed. "It's Phillip." Shaking his head, he relayed the computer science teacher's visit to the media center. "He really thinks I'm Frank Tennison, computer hacker."

Joe's mouth fell open. "What about me?"

"He didn't say anything about you." Frank's lips pressed together in a hard line, his expression bleak.

"Did you know this Peterson guy?"

In the dim light, Joe saw his brother's hands curl into fists, his head turn away. "He was the other programmer working on Hansen's 'project.'" Frank took a deep breath before continuing. "When he took off, he left Hansen a message implying he wasn't working alone."

"So that's why...?" He didn't want to finish the question.

Frank nodded. "I never really gave him another thought..."

"No reason you should have." Joe's voice rose. "He sold you out. Hansen could have killed you, and he wouldn't have batted an eye." He watched as Frank's jaw tightened and knew he needed to change the subject, to find a way to distract his brother. "So, what do we do?"

"We need to put some distance between us."

Joe raised an eyebrow. "_More_ distance? The kids already think I have it out for you."

Frank gave him a twisted smile. "We need to ramp it up a bit. I have an idea how we can do that. It'll involve a bit more acting than you usually do."

"Bring it on, 'bro. You're not the only one who can pretend to be someone else." He listened intently as Frank outlined his plan, nodding his head when his brother finished talking.

"Think you're up for it?"

Joe nodded. "I'll manage." He forced himself to sound confident.

"Good." Frank stood, and stretched. "We can do it at breakfast. I'm going to turn in. See if I can get a little sleep before we have to get up again."

"Sounds good." Joe grabbed the pillow back and punched it into shape. "I think I'll see if I can find that dream again. Kara was looking good in the bottom half of that bikini."

Frank closed his eyes and sighed. "_Way_ too much information, little brother."

Joe lay back down and rolled over, closing his eyes and trying to get back to sleep. After a minute, he turned over, his senses telling him he was being watched. "What?"

"Yeah, uh, thanks for earlier." Frank's voice was nearly a whisper. He paused, moving into the shadows so he couldn't be seen. "This whole relationship thing? I'm not used to it yet." The uncertainty was back in his voice. "I don't want to screw it up. Let me know if I seem to be going off the deep end, okay?"

"Any time, 'bro." A yawn nearly split Joe's face. "Now go away. I have this really good dream to get back to." He could feel Frank roll his eyes as the door shut with a quiet click. Joe smiled. It was good to have his brother back.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Breakfast the next morning was tense. No matter how many times Joe had punched his pillow, he hadn't been able to fall back asleep. Instead, he had lain awake the rest of the night, his mind running through Frank's plan, only slipping into an uneasy doze shortly before his alarm went off. He crawled out of bed feeling sandy-eyed, irritable, and a whole lot less confident in his ability to carry out his end of Frank's plan than he had tried to sound at two in the morning.

_What was I thinking?_ He closed his eyes, his head sinking onto the open palm of his left hand. A tentative tug on his sleeve forced his head back up.

/Your corn flakes are getting soggy./ Benj indicated the bowl on the table in front of them with his chin. /You should eat them before they turn to mush. They're nasty that way./ He peered at Joe, his dark eyes bright. /You okay? You don't look so good./

_Here we go_, Joe thought. Aloud he said, "Just tired. I didn't sleep too good last night." He rubbed his left shoulder absently.

Benj sat in the chair next to him and leaned his head against Joe's arm for a moment. /You want me to get Kathy?/

Kathy Richards was the campus doctor. With Pocumtuck's population, simply having a nurse was insufficient. Joe looked around. Kathy wasn't in the dining hall. _Good._ He forced a reassuring look on his face while shaking his head. "Nah, I'm good. I don't want to waste her time when all I need is a good night's sleep." He patted Benj on the head. "I'll be fine tomorrow." A huge yawn broke off his words. "Or later this afternoon. I think I'll let Sarah take this morning's classes. I'm going to head back to the house and sneak in a nap." His hand started moving back toward his shoulder, but he caught it and lowered it to his knee. "Go back to your seat, and eat your breakfast, buddy. Ekaterina'll have my head if you zone out in class because you're hungry."

Benj laughed silently as he moved down the table. /She sure would./

From the corner of his eye, Joe saw Frank enter the dining hall, grab a tray, and start filling it with breakfast foods. Yet another piercing whistle filled the room, sending everyone's eyes toward his brother, who turned away, red-faced.

Joe swallowed. _There's my signal_, he thought. He shoved a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, grimaced at the sodden texture, then raised his eyebrows at Benj. "You were right. I'm tossing this. I'll get something else after my nap."

The boy shot him a look that clearly said, "I told you so," and went back to his stack of pancakes.

Hands shaking slightly, Joe rose from the table and started walking slowly to the clean up area. Halfway there, he stopped and stretched his left arm out to the side, closing his eyes as he did so. The annoying whine of Frank's hearing aid sounded closer this time. As he clapped a hand to his head to block out the noise, a searing heat spread over his chest, followed by the sound of dishes and silverware falling to the floor. Air whooshed from his lungs as his eyes flew open, and he stood frozen in place, his chest burning from the spilled food and coffee.

Frank stood in front of him, an empty tray in his hand, staring at him with horror-filled eyes. "Oh, no. No, no, no." The tray fell to the ground with a loud clatter as Frank ineffectually tried to dab at Joe's chest with a sodden and soggy napkin. "I'm so, so, so..."

Joe pushed his brother's hand away. "What the hell, Tennison? What is it about dumping things on me?"

"I'm sorry." Frank reddened. "I didn't, uh, didn't mean..."

"You're a menace." Joe's voice carried through the dining hall. Frank flinched. "Just get away from me."

"L.. leave him al.. lone!" Sunny's voice rang out from the end of their table. "He d.. didn't d.. do it on p.. purpose. Y.. you sh.. should have b.. been w.. watching."

Her voice broke off as Joe swayed, then doubled over, grabbing at his left arm and gasping. He watched as her almond-shaped eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open. A gasp escaped her lips as he hit the floor.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

As Sunny started yelling, Frank caught his Joe's eyes, and gave him a barely perceptible nod. Hands fluttering nervously, he watched as Joe bent in half, his right arm reaching across his chest to clutch his left arm, before collapsing.

For a few agonizing moments, Frank waited for Joe to continue their act, his heart racing as Joe lay seemingly unresponsive on the floor. Was there really something wrong? _Come on, little brother. Enough is enough already._ He sank to his knees, forcing himself to keep his Tennison persona intact. "J.. Joe?"

Joe's eyelids lifted enough for Frank to see a sliver of blue. "Pills..." he gasped. "Jeans... right... front... pocket."

Frank leaned over his hands moving toward Joe's waist, stopping at the feeble shake of his brother's head.

"Not... you... Menace." Even weakened, the venom in the last word was clear. His eyes closed again, his head lolling back.

A pair of hands pushed Frank roughly out of the way, knocking his glasses askew as he landed on his side. Headmaster Whitman pulled a small container from Joe's pocket and hurriedly stuffed a pill under his tongue.

The whole school stood frozen as Joe's breathing evened out and his eyes opened. Gradually, the grip on his left arm relaxed, and he nodded at Whitman. "Thanks," he whispered.

"Are you all right? I'm calling an ambulance." The headmaster's voice was rough with worry.

"I don't need that." His voice already sounded stronger. "I'll be okay in a bit," Joe answered, struggling to a sitting position. "It's been a while since I've had one of these attacks."

"You need to be checked out," Whitman said, putting an arm around Joe and helping him up. Seeing his brother upright, Frank started to breathe normally again. He wiped his forehead, surprised to find a thin sheen of sweat dampening his hair.

"No hospital," Joe was saying, "I just need to rest."

The headmaster regarded them both with eyes devoid of expression. "Anyone on my staff who has an incident like this gets checked out before being cleared to work again." He turned to the closest teacher. "Find Kathy and send her to my office." With one arm supporting Joe, he started propelling him toward the exit. Before they had gone five feet, the headmaster stopped, turned to Frank who was still on the floor, and said, "Mr. Tennison, I'd like you to join us," then abruptly turned back to Joe.

Making sure his hands were noticeably shaking, Frank resettled his glasses, pushed himself to a standing position, then followed. Although his eyes stayed cast down on the floor, he could see he had the attention of the entire dining hall. _Good_, he thought, _mission accomplished._

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Once the office door closed behind them, Whitman dropped the arm supporting Joe and turned to face him, controlled anger emanating from his entire being. "What exactly was _that_?" His voice was like splintered icicles. "I brought you into my school, integrated you into the lives of my students, and now..."

"Now my cover's been compromised." Frank cut across the headmaster's words. "So we've taken appropriate steps to maintain our objective." His voice was confident, his demeanor commanding, and Joe was once again amazed at how quickly his brother could shift between personalities.

"What? Compromised?" Whitman's stony expression morphed into one of concern. "You mean there's someone here who knows who you two really are? Are the students in danger?"

"Not both of us," Joe said. "Just Frank, and not really compromised."

"That was the purpose of this..." Frank paused, and Joe could tell he was trying to choose his words carefully. "This exercise." He let out a breath. "We've used these identities before. Apparently, there's someone here with a connection to a previous incarnation of Frank Tennison." Whitman looked startled.

"We needed to put some distance between us," Joe added, the fingers of his left hand drumming lightly on his leg. Now that the whole acting thing was over, his adrenaline levels were shooting up. The need to move was overwhelming. "Just in case."

Whitman's eyes widened. "In case what?"

Frank looked at him with calm eyes. "In case I need to pull back. If I have to 'go underground', as it were, we wouldn't be leaving Sunny unprotected. It's easier to set this up if the students and faculty believe we can't stand each other."

"You boys live in a much too complicated a world for me." The headmaster's shoulders sagged. "What happens now?"

Joe gave him a crooked smile. "I lay low all day, then apologize at dinner tonight for scaring everyone." The drumming from his fingers played a beat under his words. "At the end I tack on a comment about how the attack was probably caused by exhaustion and stress, and that I _may_ have overreacted this morning regarding Frank." The drumming stopped, and he looked straight at Whitman, a smirk covering his face. "No one will believe it for a second."

Frank stepped up beside his brother. "Which is exactly what we want."

There was silence for a moment then the first few notes of a jaunty pop song filled the air. Whitman started, then moved toward the phone lying on his desk. "My son's gotten ahold of it again," he said, sliding it open. "Kathy. Yes, he's here." The man's voice became business-like, his eyes flickering toward Joe. "He appears to be all right... No, he refused to go... I informed him that wasn't an option, that he needed to be looked at by _someone_... Good. We'll see you in a few minutes." He closed the phone, his eyes still trained on Joe. "Just as a warning, she's going to have a few choice words for you. You've got about five minutes. I'll go head her off outside and 'explain' what happened."

Once the door closed, Joe stretched out on the couch. "Guess I'd better work on getting pale and languid again."

Frank's eyebrows shot up. "Languid? Do you even know what that means?"

Joe snorted. "You hold your book club right outside my bedroom door. I'm picking up a few things." He let out a breath, his expression growing more serious. "I don't know how you do this, 'bro."

"Do what?"

"Turn into someone else. _And _make it look easy." Joe ran a hand through his hair. "There were about twelve times this morning I was sure I'd screwed up. And now I have to keep pretending to be _him _in front of a doctor."

"You did fine." Frank removed the glasses, held them up to the window, then absently started cleaning the lenses on the corner of his shirt. "Better than fine. You had me worried there for a bit."

"Really?"

"Really. I'll get Anna to nominate you for a Tony next year."

Joe smiled. This was the first time Frank had voluntarily mentioned Anna since they'd been at Pocumtuck. He pushed himself up on his elbows. "Why not an Oscar?"

"Those are for movies." Frank examined the glasses one last time then settled them back on his face. "Tony's are for live performances."

"And you keep track of this, why?"

Frank made a clucking sound with his tongue. "Culture lessons later, little brother. Acting now. The doctor'll be here any minute, and if this is going to work, I can't be here."

Joe nodded and lay back down, forcing his breathing to become more shallow. Through half-closed eyes, he watched as his brother transformed back into the timid, cowed Frank Tennison – his shoulders slumping down, his chin pointing toward his chest, the calculating gleam in his eyes fading. The whole process took the space of three breaths. Joe shook his head in admiration as Frank slunk out the door. "Damn," he murmured, "he really is good. I hate that."


	7. seven

_Friday morning 6am_

* * *

It took nearly five minutes of quiet knocking before Sarah came to the door. She stood in an oversized football jersey yawning, her short, blonde hair sticking up at odd angles. "What the hell?" she said, rubbing her eyes. "Do you have any idea..." Her voice faded away as she saw who was at her door. "Sunny? Benj? How did you get here?" Her pale blue eyes met Joe's darker ones. "Mr. Miller? What's going on?"

Joe let go of Benj's shoulder and stepped forward, wincing at the pressure on his ankle. With a turn of his head, he scanned the hallway, making sure Sarah's voice wasn't attracting attention. "Can we come in?" he asked, intentionally keeping his voice low. "We need to get out of sight."

Sarah's eyes narrowed, but she stepped back, holding the door open with one hand. "Out of sight...? You're limping," she said to him, her voice wary. "What happened?"

"In a minute." Joe looked around the odd z-shaped room. "You have a roommate?"

"She's not here." She reached behind the door frame, picked up a baseball bat, then forced herself between Joe and the kids, her expression hard. "I need an explanation here, Mr. Miller. You have about thirty seconds, then I go for the other ankle."

Benj darted around her and stepped in front of Joe, his hands flying. "Whoa, buddy. It's okay." He gently pushed Benj closer to Sunny, who wrapped her arms around the boy's chest. Once both kids were away from him, he held his hands up in front of him to show they were empty, swaying slightly with the motion. "I had to get them somewhere I can hide them," he said, trying to keep his voice calm and level. "Somewhere no one would think to look for them." Exhaustion stole over him, the adrenaline rush he'd been working under since yesterday afternoon starting to fade, and the lack of sleep last night catching up to him. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, realizing the words he used weren't ones that would make Sarah drop her weapon. "Need to... keep them safe."

Sarah's eyes narrowed. "Safe from what?"

"Not what," Joe said. "Who. And I don't know. I know this sounds insane, but you have to trust me. I'm not going to hurt them." He shook his head. The small amount of light in the room seemed to be fading. "I'm protecting them."

"That's not enough of an explanation, Mr. Miller, and your time is running down." The bat shifted until it was just over Sarah's shoulders.

Joe took a deep breath, his brain frantically, but unsuccessfully, trying to put convincing words in his mouth. He shook his head again. "Need... a minute."

"S.. Sarah." Sunny touched the older girl's shoulder. "L.. let him talk."

As Sarah turned towards Sunny, Benj reached out and grabbed the bat with both hands. He yanked it out of the older girl's grasp, sending it arching towards Joe's stomach. Joe stepped back to avoid it, landed hard on his injured ankle, and staggered. A hiss escaped from between his teeth, and he squeezed his eyes shut, the pain making him bend nearly in half.

Sounds of a struggle rang in the room. Joe forced his eyes open and saw Sarah holding Sunny back with one hand while trying unsuccessfully to wrench the bat away from Benj with the other. Breathing hard, he concentrated on making his voice heard over the tumult, part of him concerned that someone on the floor would come to investigate, part of him impressed at Benj's strength. "Stop it! Someone's going to get hurt. Just put it down!"

All three froze. "J.. Joe?" The tone in Sunny's voice forced his eyes toward her face. Her expression was filled with concern. "You d.. don't look so g.. good. You n.. need to sit. _Now._"

"I'm _fine_. Benj, give Sarah back the bat," he said, his voice stronger again for a moment. As he tried to straighten, he saw Benj shake his head, the boy's hands forming words Joe suddenly couldn't understand. "Just until... she believes me." He tried to move closer to them, his hand held out, but the surroundings grew blurry and he felt his knees start to buckle. He thought he heard Sunny call his name again. Then the room disappeared.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"He's dehydrated. He needs to drink something."

The voice, female and authoritative, reminded Joe of Kara's. _Wonder what she's doing right now?_ With his eyes closed, it was easy to imagine she was with him.

"H.. How?" A second female voice. This one sounded worried. He knew he should open his eyes, to reassure the girl, but it was too much effort. It was easier to drift back down.

"Here. Try this." A straw was placed between his lips. "Mr. Miller, can you hear me?" Something pungent was pushed under Joe's nose, and he gagged, displacing the straw.

"I'm okay," he said, his voice shaking. "Just... keep that away." He forced his eyes open and saw Sunny and Benj staring at him with frightened eyes, Sunny holding a sports drink near his head. He took the container from her with a trembling hand and managed to get the straw in his mouth, drinking as deeply as he could. He stopped to breathe for a moment, then drank some more, shivering all the while. "What was that stench?" he asked as soon as he could trust his voice.

Sarah stood nearby, the bat now held loosely in her hand. "Perfume." Joe shuddered at the memory of the scent. "My grandmother sent it to me. I wear it when I don't want my date to get too close."

"That'd work." He pushed himself up, trying to figure out what he was leaning against. A cinderblock wall. Somehow the three of them had managed to get him on one of the beds in the room. He took another drink, then turned to Sunny and Benj. "You two okay?"

Sunny snorted. "We're f.. fine. You're the one who p.. passed out." She shook her head, her expression torn between anger and relief. "Y.. you gave us all the s.. supplies last night. You d.. didn't keep anything f.. for yourself."

"I said I'd keep you safe." Joe took a breath. "That was part of keeping you safe. I'm stronger than you are."

"Y.. you c.. can't keep us s.. safe if you're unconscious! Or d.. dead!" Sunny was furious, but Joe knew she was using the anger to mask her fear.

"I know my limits," Joe said, forcing himself to a sitting position. "I got you here, didn't I?" Sunny raised an eyebrow at him, and looked pointedly at him on the bed, then the drink container. "Okay, I miscalculated a little. It won't happen again."

Sarah thrust the drink back in his face. "Mr. Miller, you can't push yourself like that. It's dangerous with your heart condition. You could die. Where's your medicine? We searched your pockets but couldn't find any."

Joe swallowed. It was time for more truth telling. "I don't have a heart condition."

/Yes, you do!/ Benj's indignation was clear on his face.

Joe let out a long breath, his blue eyes seeking out Benj's darker ones. "Joe _Miller_ has a heart condition. _ I _don't." Joe rubbed his face with his free hand. It shook as he pulled it away.

Benj shook his head, taking refuge in stubbornness. /We were there in the dining hall when you had your attack. We _saw_ you!/

"It was an act. I'm perfectly healthy." A momentary wave of dizziness forced him to lean back against the wall again. "Okay, maybe not so much at the moment." He turned to Benj and Sunny, the shock and betrayal covering their faces striking at his conscience. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice shaking slightly as he spoke the words. "We didn't want to lie to you, but it was necessary. We had to blend in."

"Wait, what do mean Joe Miller? _You're_ Joe Miller." Sarah's voice was hard.

"No, I'm not." He glanced quickly at Benj and Sunny. "My last name is Hardy. Frank – Mr. Tennison – is my brother. We're private detectives." He lifted his head from the wall. "I don't have a heart condition, and he's not deaf."

"Where's your proof?" Sarah's grip on the bat tightened.

"I don't have any. You'll have to trust me."

Sarah picked up the bat again, moving in front of Sunny. "You don't have... Give me one good reason why I shouldn't hit you with this and call campus security." Tears in his eyes, Benj reached out and grabbed her arm. He shook his head, his dark eyes pleading with her to drop the weapon. "For all I know, you've kidnapped them, and..."

"And brought them here so you could identify me to the police? After my confession, I can see where you wouldn't think much of me, but do you really believe I'm that stupid?" Joe put the empty drink container down. "Benj, let go of her arm." The boy swiveled his head to Joe, a questioning look on his face. "It's okay. She's trying to protect you. That's why I brought you here. She cares about you, too." Benj loosened his hands and ducked around Sarah, sitting down next to Joe on the bed. Joe took a deep breath. "Sarah, I need your help."

"And I need more than the word of a liar."

Joe nodded. "I can appreciate that. You got a computer?"

Sarah snorted. "I'm not turning my back on you to get it."

"Smart move," Joe said. "I faked having a heart condition. For all you know I could have faked passing out. How about if Sunny gets it?"

Sarah's eyes narrowed for a moment, then she jerked her head at a desk by the other bed. "It should still be on. I was writing a paper last night."

Once Sunny had retrieved it and opened a browser, he said, "Go to Hardy Investigations – one word – dot com." He waited, eyes on Sarah, as the page loaded.

"What is this?" Skepticism dripped from her voice.

"Our website." He held out his hands for the laptop and scrolled through the pages.

"How is this going to prove anything?" Sarah's eyes grew icy. "There aren't any pictures of you."

Joe gritted his teeth. "Stakeouts become a bit more difficult if everyone can see what we look like." He muttered a few curses under his breath. "Look, at some point, you're going to have to take my word that I'm telling the truth. I haven't hurt them. I didn't take them somewhere isolated. I brought them to a college campus..."

"I kn.. know that place." Sunny was pointing at one of the names on the client list, her voice so soft, Joe almost didn't hear her. "There w.. was an art exhibit l.. last summer. My c.. cousin b.. brought me there. She said her b.. boyfriend had d.. done the s.. security." She turned to Joe, her almond-shaped eyes growing wide. "Y.. you." She stared at him for a moment, her expression just like Frank's when a missing piece of information suddenly made things clear. "Y.. you're _that_ Joe? Uncle L.. Liam c.. can't stand you."

With great care, Joe managed not to roll his eyes. _ Like I needed the confirmation_, he thought. "You know that thing he does, where he leaves you on the porch for ten minutes with his back to you while he hugs Kara? Has he done that to every guy she's dated?"

Sunny nodded. "N.. not all of them. J.. just the ones he d.. doesn't like."

"What about the drainpipe thing?"

"He p.. pushed you under the d.. drainpipe?" Sunny's eyes grew wide. "The l.. last guy he d.. did that to was her p.. prom date. He h.. hated J.. Johnny."

He turned to face Sarah again, his eyebrows raised. "Is that enough proof for you?"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Let me get this straight. Your girlfriend – Sunny's cousin – is an FBI agent." Joe and Sunny both nodded. "Then, why can't you just call her and tell her where you are?" They sat on the floor, drinking orange juice and eating bagels Sarah had taken from a small refrigerator by her bed. She had given the kids sweatshirts to replace their wet shirts and jackets and Joe a large beach towel, apologizing all the while because she had nothing to fit him.

He swallowed a mouthful of juice before responding, still feeling a bit dizzy and unfocused. "There was a leak," he said. "Someone knew we were going to be on Goat Peak. Either someone at the school passed along the information, or one of Kara's phones is being tapped. Until I can figure out where the leak came from, we need to stay hidden."

Benj put down his bagel and wiped his hands on his shirt. /How long?/

"I don't know, buddy. Frank is probably out looking for us right now." Joe worked at making his voice sound more confident than he felt. "I'm sure Sarah doesn't want us as roommates for too long. This room isn't that big."

"How w.. will he kn.. know where to l.. look?" Sunny leaned against one of the beds. Since realizing Joe's connection to Kara, she had steadfastly refused to look at him, blushing each time her eyes accidentally met his.

"Frank knows how I think. He'll find us." He let out a breath, his voice getting softer. "He always finds me."

A huge yawn split Benj's face, his arms stretching out to his sides like a windmill. Within seconds, Sunny yawned, too. Joe blinked, trying not to follow suit, and failed miserably. Sarah stared at them all, her eyes calculating. "Look, I have to get to class. The three of you should sack out here for a while. Even with over five thousand people living in Southwest, you'll stick out like sore thumbs. Once it gets dark, we can reconsider."

"What about your roommate?" Joe asked around another yawn. "You said she was gone, but when's she due back?"

"Not for a week or so. Her mother had to have surgery, and she went home to help take care of her." She stood and brushed bagel crumbs from her pants. "You'll be safe here." When she got to the door, she stopped and turned back to them. "I'm sorry for the way I reacted. I didn't know..."

Joe waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Don't worry about it. I would've done exactly the same thing. And Sarah? Thank you."

She shouldered her backpack and nodded her head, the door closing behind her as she left. Within minutes, Benj was tucked into one of the beds and asleep, zonking out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Sunny lay down on the other bed, her eyes distant. "I r.. remember now." She focused on Joe, who was now leaning against Benj's bed, his foot propped up on a pile of books. "You w.. were at the f.. funeral. K.. Kara looked l.. like she wanted t.. to hit you."

Joe nodded. "We didn't get along too well back then. Things changed."

"There w.. was some s.. skinny guy, too." Her face looked troubled. "I thought it w.. was s.. someone Lynnie knew f.. from the h.. hospital." She swallowed. "Was it...?"

"Frank? Yeah. He'd been... ill, but he wanted to be there for Kara." Joe shifted on the floor, trying to find a more comfortable spot for his leg. "I sort of bullied him into taking me with him. I was worried about him."

"Y.. you're worried now, too." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah." He let out a long breath.

Sunny turned her eyes toward him for a long moment, searching his face, then rolled over on her side. A few seconds later, Joe could hear a faint snoring coming from her bed. He wrapped his arms around his chest, tucking the towel behind his back, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Sunday morning 6am_

* * *

"You're awake? That's not good. You need more sleep so those injuries can heal." A sigh. "Well, since you _are_ up, how are you doing this morning?" Frank swiveled his head to the side and saw Dr. Finley standing in the doorway, dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. A dark green windbreaker was draped over his arm, and he held a tablet computer in his hands. His fingers dragged across its surface as he checked what Frank assumed were notes about his idiotic actions of the previous evening.

Frank raised his eyebrows, hoping to deflect a lecture. "Is this the hospital's equivalent of casual Fridays? And isn't it a bit early for you to be here?"

Finley shook his head, smiling ruefully. "My partner's attending some college function today. I told him I had a patient I needed to check up on." He entered the room, leaving the door open, and hung his jacket on the doorknob. "Thank you for the excuse, by the way," he said. "I hate those things. I never know what to do with my hands."

Frank nodded and went back to his drawing, the pencil in his hand moving lightly over the paper on the portable desk. Finley approached, picking up sheets that had been covered with sketches, torn from the book, and dropped on the bed. He flipped through them several times, eventually stopping at one particular drawing. "I've seen this one before." Lines formed on the man's brow as he considered the picture. He stared for nearly a minute, then shook his head. "It's not coming to me. Can you give me a hint?"

"The_ Sunday Times Magazine_." The words were flat, spoken to the bedside lamp as Frank picked up and examined the drawing he was working on. "They printed a similar photo."

Recognition flooded the doctor's face. "Yes, it's from that Stillwater play, isn't it? That one from last fall? I _saw_ that. It was amazing." His gaze moved sharply to Frank's face. "You said your girlfriend's name is Anna." The paper rustled like falling leaves as he shook it. "This is her. She's that actress..." His voice trailed off. Frank was shaking his head. "You're remembering things. That's good."

"That's _all_ I remember." The words came from between clenched teeth. "That image of her. Chet had to..." His hand stilled. He had woken up from a nightmare at four in the morning, the image of the girl exploding in his brain and needing to be released. The frantic sound of pencil on paper had woken Chet. "He had to explain..." He stopped, his lips pressed together. Chet had spent the last couple of hours telling Frank how he and Anna had met, and now Frank was trying to mesh the briefly remembered image of the shy girl with the braids with this picture of the glamorous actress.

"Where is Mr. Morton?"

Frank could feel the doctor's eyes on him, but he refused to meet his gaze. He was getting tired of everyone's sympathy, the understanding look in their eyes when he couldn't remember something. He knew Finley had asked about Chet as a way to change the subject.

"There was a phone call. He left a few minutes ago. Said he'd be back as soon as he could." Frank frowned. The call had obviously disturbed Chet, but he had left before Frank could ask who it was and what they had wanted. Part of him thought Chet might still be angry about yesterday's outburst – _And rightly so_, he thought – and might have used the phone call as an excuse to leave for a while.

There was a momentary silence then the sound of paper being shuffled. Frank kept his eyes steadfastly fixed on his drawing until his attention was drawn by Finley placing one of the other papers on the surface in front of him. This one showed one half of a room, the bed unmade and covered with clothes and scraps of paper. The doctor cleared his throat. "You had another dream, didn't you?"

"Roger's gone." Frank huffed out a breath of air. "I came home from my programming mid-term and the room looked like that." He gestured to the paper in the doctor's hand. "I've been trying to remember what occurred after that day. No luck."

"What about the rest of them?" Finley spread the pictures out on the desk.

In addition to the ones of Anna and the dorm room, there were three other complete drawings. One resembled the picture Frank had drawn the night before – a bearded man in an attack posture – this time with the face blurred out. The one Chet had seen had been consigned to the nurses' station recycling bin; it was hard enough keeping his past and present memories separated, and the picture hadn't had simply confused matters more. The second drawing was of a wooded area, trees and rocks prominent in the foreground, a path barely visible in the background. The last image was of a group of children, sitting and relaxing in living room, all focused on something outside of the frame. The features of many of the kids were indistinct, except for two in the back – a younger boy and an older girl – who were drawn in astonishing detail, right down to the girl's jewelery and the boy's mischievous smile.

Frank leaned back against the pillow, his features drawn. "I don't know. I've been trying to remember, but I just don't know." He let out a long breath. "I'm getting really tired of saying that."

"The memories are there, Frank." The doctor picked up the papers and neatly stacked them on the table next to the bed. "These prove that." He took the notebook and pencil from from the portable table and added them to the stack before reaching out and putting a hand on Frank's shoulder. "We'll help you recover them. Right now, though, you need breakfast. I'll get you some food, and then we can talk." He smiled suddenly, a smile that lit the still somewhat darkened room. "In the interest of my not lying to my partner, of course."

They ate in silence, which Frank appreciated. Not only was he tired of talking about his situation, every part of his body hurt. Even something as simple as eating was difficult, as it forced sore muscles to move in ways they protested against. The bruises on his arms and chest were turning spectacular shades of blue and purple, and he could only imagine his face looked about the same. The injuries alternately ached and sent shooting pains through his shoulders, leg, and ribs, but the biggest ache was the one in his mind, the gaping five-year hole in his memory that was wrecking havoc with his emotions and thought processes. Awake, it gnawed at him; asleep, it seemed determined to drag him through each and every missing second in perfect chronological order. He wondered if it was going to take five more years of simply sleeping to get all his memories back. He shuddered at the thought, then gasped as the motion aggravated his shoulder and ribs.

"You're trying too hard." The doctor's voice held a sharp note. "The harder you fight for those memories, the longer it's going to take for them to surface." Frank's jaw tightened at the words. He hated being so easily read. "Look, I know you don't remember me, but I know you, Frank. You're worried about your brother, and you're lying in bed trying to force those memories out so you can find that last puzzle piece that makes this all make sense." Finley rose from his chair and placed his hands on the bed's railing, his knuckles turning white where he grasped it. "What you're actually doing is slowing down your recovery." He blew out a breath. "I know it's not how you operate, but you're going to have to let go." One hand lifted from the railing and pointed to the pile of drawings. "Look at what's hidden in your subconscious. Give it a chance to come out on its own."

"I can't." Frank swallowed. "How do I know my memory will come back?" He shook his head. "There's too much riding on this. My brother's been missing for how many days now? Joe's life could be..." He stopped and tried to control his breathing, his emotions, the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes. "I can't."

There was a knock. Chet stood in the doorway. "Sorry. That was Kara on the phone before. She asked me to meet her at the police station in town." He let out a breath. "They haven't found anything, and her time's just about up. They'll be issuing the Amber alert in about an hour." He swallowed and looked at Frank, concern in his eyes. "The parents of the boy arrived at the school yesterday. They want to talk to you before the story hits the airwaves. See if you can tell them anything. Headmaster Whitman tried to tell them about your amnesia, but they don't care. You're the last link to their son right now, and they want to see you. While I was at the station he called to warn Kara they're on their way down from the school."

Frank felt like he'd been shoved against a wall. Joe wasn't the only one missing. There had been two kids with him. How could he have forgotten that? He looked from Chet to Dr. Finley. "What do I do?" The uncertainty in his voice made him wince. "I can't tell them anything. I don't know anything." Panic made the words louder than he had intended.

"Take a deep breath, Frank." The doctor's voice was soothing. "You don't have to see them. It's your choice. If you want I can meet with them, explain the extent of your injuries, tell them it would be inadvisable."

He turned to Chet and caught a small spark of disappointment in his friend's face. It washed over him like ice water, calming his emotions and clearing some of the cobwebs from his brain. Still looking at Chet, he put his hands up to stop Finley's words. "No. I'll meet with them. I have to. They deserve that. If nothing else, I can tell them that as long as their son is with Joe, he'll be taken care of. That Joe will protect him." _With his life if he needs to._ He lay back on the pillow, feeling calmer than he had since he had first woken up in the hospital.

Chet shot him a tentative smile. "I'll go wait for them at the nurses' station."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was another hour before the boy's parents arrived. Dr. Finley straightened up the drawings, got rid of the breakfast dishes, and helped Frank to and from the bathroom so he could wash up a bit, clucking over the number and state of Frank's bruises. He checked Frank's vitals and monitored his heart-rate and blood pressure several times, shaking his head after each check. After the third round of this, he chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "You must have ice in your veins, Frank. Most people, when faced with an unfamiliar situation, are nervous. Their blood pressure rises. Their heart beats faster. You get calmer." A look of reluctant admiration showed in his eyes. "You would have made one hell of a surgeon," he said. "I can see why you're as good at your job as Agent Malone says you are."

Frank nodded, not really listening, his eyes glued on the door. At the doctor's request, Chet had closed it upon leaving to give Frank the option of changing his mind right up to the last second, even though he had known it wasn't necessary.

Finally, there was a knock. The doctor looked at Frank for confirmation, then crossed the room and opened the door. He stood in the doorway for a moment, blocking Frank's view of the visitors, introduced himself, and explained Frank's condition. "I just don't want you to expect too much. He's been badly injured himself, and..."

"If he can tell us anything. Anything at all..." A man's voice rang out in the hall. Frank tilted his head. It sounded... familiar.

"We just need to talk to him." A woman's voice spoke, calmer, more measured, and also familiar.

Frank closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration, trying to place the voices. He'd heard them before. He knew them. _From where? _He opened his eyes as the door opened and felt the blood drain from his face.

"Frank?!" Complete shock emanated from the couple standing in the center of the room. The man, tall and tanned, with short cropped salt-and-pepper hair, looked completely stunned.

The woman, also tan, but of medium height with light brown hair wound around the crown of her head, gasped. "Frank _Hardy_? But Headmaster said.."

Frank felt the room starting to spin. It was as if the world was falling into darkness one piece at a time. As his breathing sped up, the dark spots started clouding his vision. He struggled to slow down his heart rate, to clear away the darkness as he stared at each of visitors. "Peter? Emily? What are you...?"

Chet's voice broke into his whirling thoughts. "Frank, you know these people?" His voice sounded as though it was farther than the doorway and was shot through with worry. "Frank?"

He tried to focus on Chet, but his eyes kept turning towards the visitors. He could feel Dr. Finley's hand on his wrist, hear him pushing the call button for the nurses, but all he could see were the shocked faces of the people standing in his room. "Roger's parents. Not sure why..." The darkness chipped away at their faces until all he could see were their eyes. Then the room went black, and everything disappeared.


	8. Eight

_End of October, Tuesday_

* * *

Joe sat at the table, his left leg bouncing convulsively under the tablecloth, trying to will Headmaster Whitman to shut up. The man had decided just at the end of dinner that now would be the perfect time to share the plans for the upcoming weekend's fall festival with the students. _Stop talking,_ Joe thought, groaning internally. S_top talking __now. __Please._ He looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes. He had a long overdue phone date scheduled with Kara. It had taken weeks to set up, and he would be damned if anything was going to keep from it. His foot bounced into the table leg, pushing the table several inches to the right with a loud scraping noise. From across the table there was a loud throat-clearing sound, and when Joe looked up, he saw Frank's eyebrows raised over the frames of his glasses. He felt himself flush and surreptitiously slid the table back into place. Several of the kids noticed the exchange and giggled into their hands, picking up on the tension between their house parents.

"We'll be dividing into several groups," the headmaster was saying. After a cursory glance, Joe found himself tuning the man out again, his mind drifting to what he and Kara would say to each other. Lost in his thoughts, his fingers started beating a staccato rhythm on the table. A sharp poke in his midsection brought him back to the present. He looked down to see Benj grinning at him.

/If I have to pay attention, you do, too./ The boy's hands moved in small gestures, hidden from view by the tablecloth.

"Thanks, buddy." Joe rubbed the boy's head, then clasped his hands together, moved them to his lap, and wrenched his attention back to Whitman, studiously avoiding the glare he could feel coming from Frank's end of the table.

"... and the rest of you will be hiking on the trails around Goat Peak. We'll meet here Thursday morning at seven" – this elicited groans from some of the older students – "for breakfast, and be on our way." The headmaster glanced at the clock on the far end of the room, then smiled broadly. "Now, I understand most of you have exams to study for." More groans came from around the room. "So, I won't keep any longer." Joe let out a relieved breath. Whitman waved his hands at the students. "I'm not going to wish you good luck as I know you're all going to study hard enough not to need it. Now, everyone, back to your pods."

Chairs backed away from tables, and the sounds of feet and wheelchairs were heard leaving the room. Within seconds, the only people left in the room were Frank, Joe, and a few of the kitchen workers.

Head bowed down and hands slowly gathering silverware, Frank whispered, "Go. I'll take care of this." He lifted his head slightly, and Joe could see a small smile playing on his brother's lips. "Tell Kara I said 'hi.'"

"Am I that obvious?"

Frank's only answer was a raised eyebrow.

"Never mind. Thanks, 'bro." Joe flashed him a quick grin then slipped out the back door, grateful that his brother understood how much he needed this.

It was a dark, quiet night. _It's always quiet here, _Joe thought, his eyes automatically searching out the slowly brightening stars. The downside of the quiet was the feeling of isolation, Joe occasionally felt, but the upside was the view. Fewer people meant fewer electric lights, and in the gathering darkness, Joe could see more stars than he had since being out on Barmet Bay when he was a kid. He walked through the fields to the wooded area by the river, wishing he could show it to Kara. In the daylight, the view was spectacular, a perfect New England autumn with splashes of red and gold breaking up the green of the pine trees. Now, in the evening, all it needed was a blanket, a picnic basket, and a bottle of wine to make it the perfect romantic rendezvous. In his head, he pictured how it would look in the spring, the warm, wildflower scented air, the fireflies lighting up the field, Kara relaxing in his arms...

The phone buzzed in his hand. Without looking at the number, he flipped it open and held it to his ear, a smile on his face.

"I miss you." Kara's voice sounded small and far away. "How are you holding up?"

"Better now that I can hear your voice." Joe could feel tension in his shoulders start to dissipate, tension he wasn't aware he had been carrying around. The stress of spending so much time away from Kara was something he hadn't been completely prepared for, and its strength surprised him. They talked about unimportant things for a few minutes, just enjoying each other's company, then Joe asked "Have you heard anything?"

Kara sighed, and Joe found himself wishing he could put his arms around her, feel her breath on his chest. "Word from the State Department is that there's going to be some kind of announcement in the next few weeks."

Joe ground his teeth together. "Weeks? I thought it was..." he growled. He took a deep breath before speaking again. "Sorry. Don't shoot the messenger and all that. It's just..."

"I know. We were hoping just a few more days." He could hear her pacing. Was she in their apartment, or at her office? He couldn't tell. "My contacts are telling me the tests aren't going well. They North Korean government is pushing their scientists hard, hoping for a positive result, but so far they've got nothing, and they don't want to admit failure."

"Great." Joe kicked a rock into a tree root, the thud as it hit sounding like a gunshot.

"Just stick close to Sunny," Kara said.

"She'll love that." He chuckled. "Although if I give Frank that job..."

Kara laughed into the receiver. "It'll be over soon. Then you'll be home."

_Home_. Just the thought of it brought goosebumps to Joe's arms. "I love you, you know that?"

"Yes. It's nice to hear you say it, though." He could hear her smiling. A beeping noise came from somewhere in the receiver. "Damn. Sometimes I hate this job." Joe's lips pressed together; she _was_ at the office. If he had been home, she wouldn't still be in the office this late. Well, maybe, but at least she'd have a reason to leave closer to on time. "It's the upper-ups. I have to go."

"Just tell them you need a few nights off once I'm home, okay?"

Kara laughed. "Are you kidding? When that happens, I'm taking a week's vacation. You are, too, by the way." The beeping noise sounded again, and Joe heard Kara groan. "I heard you the first time," she told it. He heard her breathe in to the phone. "We'll talk soon. Tell Frank I said hi." A pause. "I love you." The connection broke.

Joe held the phone in his hand for a few moments before putting it back in his pocket. "I love you, too," he said, his voice soft. He kicked at another rock, feeling a stinging in his eyes. These short conversations kept him sane but were too much of a reminder of how much he missed Kara's presence. He let out a shaky breath and realized he was going to have to get control of himself before he went back to the residence hall. _Yet another reason to be impressed by Frank, _he thought. _I'll never match his poker face._

The night air was cool, and he walked for a while allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimming light and enjoying the night air. He was just aiming his foot at another rock, when he heard a noise. It was a man's voice, his words unintelligible, a cross between words and a growl.

A response came almost immediately. "Just go away, Illiya."

Joe froze. While he didn't recognize the first first voice, the second belonged to Ekaterina, her tone and cadence perfectly normal – bored and unimpressed. He moved closer, crouching behind a tree.

The first voice – Illiya's – responded angrily in what Joe supposed was Russian. There was the sound of a slap, a grunt, and the noise of a body hitting the ground. A quick glance around the tree showed Ekaterina standing over a prone body, her body outlined in the moonlight.

"I told you. I don't care about your damn deadline," she was saying, "and if you come near me again, I'll put you right back down where you are now."

There was a snort and the sound of dirt being brushed from clothing. "I'm perfectly aware of what you can do, Katya, but your inaction..."

"Enough." Ekaterina's voice was harsh and cold. "You made your point, Illiya. Leave now."

"Katya..."

"Don't call me that!"

Joe heard a few more words in Russian, then the sound of footsteps. He was just on the point of sneaking away when he heard something that sounded suspiciously like sobs. Indecision rolled through him, his innate desire to help a damsel in distress – albeit, one who had apparently managed to throw a full-grown man to the ground – warring with the voice in the back of his head – a voice that sounded a lot like Frank's – telling him not to get involved, to walk away before he did anything to endanger his cover. He ground his teeth together, the need to help winning out. _Screw it. Here goes._

He stepped out from behind the tree. "Ekaterina? Are you all right?" She stood as still as a statue, not acknowledging his presence. "Look, I'll leave you alone if you want, but..." The words stopped as she stiffened, then collapsed at his feet.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Joe looked at his watch as he left Kathy's office. Eleven pm. _The kids should all be in bed by now. It's past curfew._ Time for another clandestine meeting with his brother. He walked back to the residence hall, yawning as he did, and entered their rooms. When he got to Frank's door, he knocked softly. "Hey, 'bro, you up?" The door opened, and Joe's eyes went wide.

Frank was still dressed, his shirt tucked in and a tie around his neck. The steaming mug in his right hand looked like it was permanently attached to his arm. The scent of coffee filled the room.

"Don't you ever sleep?" Joe demanded. "I'm exhausted, and you look like you're about to head off to work."

"Where've you been?" Frank opened the door and gestured for Joe to come in. "You couldn't have been on the phone for that long. Your battery would have run down hours ago."

"You won't even begin to believe it." Joe sat down on Frank's bed and recounted the events of the evening. "Kathy wants to keep her in the infirmary overnight. She was wiped out. I just got back."

"Ekaterina's epileptic?" Frank asked. He put down the mug and took off his glasses, rubbing the lenses gently on a corner of his shirt. "So, I was right."

"Wait, you knew?" The words came out more harshly than Joe had intended. He put up a hand, then squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "Sorry. I'm still a little freaked. I've never seen anyone have a seizure before."

Frank put the glasses back on, his eyes showing sympathy. "One of the guys in the chess club has it. His tend to be on the low-key end – he sort of fades out for a minute or two. It's unnerving the first few times." He patted Joe on the shoulder. "And, no, I didn't know. I surmised."

"Really, Sherlock? Do tell." Joe was pretty sure Frank would ignore the sarcasm underlying the words and share his observations anyway.

His brother didn't disappoint, merely raising an eyebrow. "Well, everyone else here has been been pretty forthcoming about what their disabilities are. With some of them, it's obvious." Frank pointed to the hearing aid behind his ear. "It's kind of hard to hide one of these. Or a wheelchair or a cane. But even the kids with more hidden conditions come right out and tell you what they've got. So do the teachers." Frank shrugged and let out a breath. "Ekaterina never talks about her disability, not that she spends a lot of time talking to anyone here. I figured it meant she's embarrassed about it."

Joe put a hand to his forehead. Trying to follow Frank's logic was giving him a headache. "You lost me. Care to explain?"

"Historically, having epilepsy was considered shameful. It meant there was something wrong with your blood. Families did everything they could to hide it. If you were a woman, it meant you might never get married in case you passed it down to your children." Frank reached out for the mug and took a sip of the contents. "Of course, she could have been faking the seizure." He looked his brother in the eyes. "You did."

"And I still have nightmares about having to do it again." Joe started rubbing circles on his temples. "No. I'm not buying that. She didn't know I was there. Whatever that Illiya guy said upset her enough to trigger a seizure."

"Something about a deadline, you said?" Frank took another drink. "Any idea what kind of deadline?"

"No clue. I didn't hear much, and most of what I did was in Russian. Which, if you remember, I don't speak. And unless you can come up with a good reason to ask Ekaterina about the encounter..."

"She stays on the list of people we have to watch out for." Frank wrapped both hands around the mug. "This list isn't getting shorter."

"No, it's not, and get this." He repeated what Kara had told him on the phone. When he was finished, he shook his head. "So it looks like we're going to be here longer than we thought." He rubbed his eyes. "I don't know about you, but I'm not really happy about this."

Frank made a non-committal sound in his throat and lifted the mug to his mouth again.

Joe watched him and grimaced. "Are you actually drinking coffee at this time of night?"

"Morning," Frank corrected, nodding at the clock. It was just past midnight. "And yes. Why?" He looked puzzled. "I like coffee. It helps me think."

"You know what helps me think? Sleep. Sleep helps me think." Joe yawned, watching through narrowed eyes are Frank drained the cup. "You know, some day they're going to find out that you have coffee running through your veins instead of blood."

Frank tilted his head to one side, examining his younger brother. "So, aside from the cheery news about the North Koreans, the conversation with Kara went well?"

Joe grinned. "Yeah. Have you talked to Anna lately?"

"Thursday night. They're reshooting some of scenes she's not in, so she gets some time to herself." A look of satisfaction crossed Frank's face. "Without Eric." His expression abruptly changed to one of business. "Speaking of Thursday. We've got the hike that day. I talked to Headmaster about taking some time off tomorrow afternoon ostensibly to go purchase some printer cartridges, but I want to head over to Goat Peak and do some reconnaissance. I'll feel more comfortable being out in the open with Sunny if I know the lay of the land."

"Sounds good. Want company?" Joe yawned again.

Frank shook his head. "No. I need you to get caught up on your beauty sleep. I'd prefer to have you alert and awake on Thursday. Just in case."

"Sure, sure. Just in case." Joe turned to the door. "Then I guess I'd better get on that right now. See you tomorrow."

"Later today, you mean," Frank corrected.

"_Much_ later." Joe closed the door behind him, yawned again, and headed to his room. It had been a long day.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_End of October, Thursday_

* * *

"Joe, hold up a minute." Frank kept his voice low, counting on the distance between the him and the kids to keep his words from them.

"What's up?" Joe turned to face his brother, automatically dropping his voice as well.

"I think we're being followed."

Joe's eyes darted around the clearing, before finally coming to rest on Benj and Sunny. "Are you sure?"

"No. It's just a hunch." His lips curled up into a small smile. "You're not the only one who gets those, you know." Stepping back, he craned his neck up, judging the height of the nearby trees.

"What are you doing?"

"I like verification of my hunches." Frank put an arm out toward what appeared to be a solid-looking branch of an oak tree, making sure it was out of sight from where Sunny and Benj sat eating some of their snacks. "Give me a boost."

Joe threaded his hands together, grunting as Frank pushed off and grabbed hold of the branch. "Geez, 'bro, you've put on some weight. Spend less time in the library and more time exercising." He stood, shifting his weight from side to side, watching his brother pull himself up the tree. "So?"

"I need to get up a little higher. I'll let you know as soon as I see something." He climbed steadily for a few seconds, regretting the fact they were on their own and wishing the morning had gone differently.

From the moment they had gotten off the white and maroon Deerfield Academy bus, Benj had been determined to take the most difficult path up the mountain, his hands animatedly trying to convince Sunny to join him. After a few minutes of teasing refusal, she had sprinted up the trail, leaving the boy in her wake for a few surprised seconds before he grinned and chased after her. After a quick glance at the other teachers, Frank followed, cursing under his breath, finally catching up to them several hundred feet up the trail. Joe appeared a few minutes later, having spent some time conferring with the other group leaders, noticeably irritated about having to continue the pretending to have a heart condition. Once Joe had gotten the safety in numbers lecture out of the way, the four of them continued at a moderate pace up the mountain, Benj apologizing for having run off, and Sunny studiously ignoring both Joe and Frank in her embarrassment. They had finally stopped a few minutes ago to catch their breath and have a snack.

A movement from down below caught Frank's eye. Two men dressed in typical hiking clothes, but somehow looking uncomfortably out of place were heading steadily up the trail, looking around them. The shorter of the two was Caucasian, with black, curly hair; the other man was of African descent, and from the looks of it was at least as tall as Joe but less muscular. They walked side by side, speaking to each other, hands gesticulating as they talked but too far away for Frank to hear their words. Suddenly they stopped. The shorter man held his hand to his left ear and turned to peer down a trail. He was wearing a bluetooth phone headset in his ear. When the conversation was done, the other man turned to face him, and Frank could see he had a matching device on as well. They stopped on the trail for a moment, the first man obviously filling his partner in on what he had learned. The dark-skinned man shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, as if to say he didn't agree but knew there was nothing he could do. Curly-haired guy nodded, indicating with a motion of his head that they needed to continue up the mountain. They picked up their pace, starting to jog, making no effort to hide their activity.

_Damn_, Frank thought. _There are times I hate being right. _But something about the men tugged at his mind. _If the North Korean government is after Sunny, shouldn't they be Asian?_ He watched as the men continued up the trail, making no effort to hide or conceal themselves in any way. _And t__hey don't appear to be professionals._ Seeing how close they were, he pushed the thought aside and maneuvered his way down the branches, nodding as he caught his brother's eyes. "Two that I can see," he said, his voice grim as he described them. "They're being directed by someone, but I can't tell if he's on the mountain or off-site. At the rate they're moving we've got about ten minutes until they get here."

"What do we do?" Joe scratched his chin, his blue eyes showing concern.

Frank pulled the map from his coat pocket, pointing at a hand-drawn circle. "There's a cave a mile or so over that way. Take the kids and go. I've marked the trail."

Joe stared at him. "You _marked_ the trail? How safe could that be? Anyone could follow it."

A hint of amusement glinted behind the worry in Frank's eyes. "No, _you'll_ be able to follow it. No one else will know what it is. You'll see what I mean." He let out a breath. "I'll lead whoever they are toward the summit, then double back to get you once I've lost them."

"Two problems with that plan," Joe said, running a hand through his hair. "One: I'm not leaving you alone. Two: Even if I were dumb enough to do that, Sunny won't go with me. She can't stand me."

"She'll go with you if Benj does." Frank stood, barely breathing, silently willing his brother to see this was their only option.

Joe's eyes flickered down to his watch then back to his brother. "I don't have a good feeling about this."

"Once we're off the mountain, we can head back to the school. I doubt anyone would be stupid enough to try to grab her in front of so many witnesses." Frank forced a smile onto his face, feigning a confidence he didn't entirely feel. "It'll be fine. Time's running out."

"What if...?" Frank could see his brother trying to come up with reasons not to leave, his shoulders slumping when he finally accepted he couldn't.

"Just keep them safe. I'll be back as soon as I can." Frank sat on a rock and untied the laces from one of his boots. "I, uh, think I've, um, got a rock in boot," he said, raising his voice and switching back to Tennison's stammer.

He watched Joe swallow and nodded encouragingly at his brother. Joe rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said, also raising his voice, the irritation he felt evident in his tone. "We're not waiting for you. Catch up when you can. C'mon Benj, let's go." He turned his gaze back to Frank. "Be careful," he whispered.

"That's my line, little brother." Frank flashed a brief smile. "Enjoy the cave. I'll see you in a bit."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Frank spent the next hour shuffling up the mountain, carrying on a half-shouted, one-sided conversation with the hikers supposedly several hundred feet in front of him. He made sure to stay far enough ahead of the two men that it would be difficult for them to see up the trail in front of him but close enough so they could hear his words.

"Come on, guys," he shouted. "I'm getting tired. Can't we just stop and rest?" He waited for what felt like an appropriate amount of time before responding to the non-existent answer. "No, I don't want to wait until we get to the summit. And watch your language, I'm still your teacher." He slowed down enough to approximate someone with flagging energy, and stopped frequently to take pretend swigs from his water bottle.

As he approached the summit, he could hear the footsteps getting closer. He sprinted up the last several hundred yards, hid behind a large rock formation, and waited. Within seconds, he heard the sound of heavy breathing interspersed with curses. Now that they were closer, Frank could hear they were speaking French. _That doesn't make any sense_, he thought.

"Où sont-ils?" Frank didn't dare look to see which man was speaking. He held his breath, hoping they would assume the group had continued down the other side of the trail and leave.

"Je ne sais pas. Je ne vois pas de traces." The second voice came from farther away. It sounded as though it was coming from the direction in which the trail continued.

"Pas de traces?" The first voice grew fainter as the speaker walked toward his partner. "Que faisons-nous maintenant?"

Frank slowly edged around the rock. The two men were standing about twenty yards away from him carrying on a conversation in full view of both ends of the trail. He swore internally, his fingers tightening on the rough surface of the stone. _Come on. Just leave already._ But luck wasn't on his side.

The curly-haired man started walking back toward his hiding place, his eyes scanning the ground. He stopped, leaned against the other side of the rock, and said, "Nous devons dire au patron."

The taller man grunted in agreement, and Frank heard the sound of buttons being pressed, then a flurry of words. He strained to hear what the man was saying, but only a few of the words he heard were ones that had been covered in his high school French class. What he could make out was the man's tone – frustration dripped from every word. Finally, the phone clicked shut, and the man said "Il a dit de continuer á chercher. Il n'est pas content."

There was bitter laughter and the sound of receding footsteps. Frank stayed where he was, ignoring the cramps starting to develop in his legs, and quietly pulled out his map of the mountain. Regardless of which trail the bad guys were using to head down the mountain, he was going to need to find a different route to reach Joe and the kids. The sound of pebbles being scattered drew his attention away from the map. Someone else had reached the summit. He shoved the map in his pocket. If it was one of the other school groups, he needed to warn them, but he had to do it as Frank Tennison. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself, then heard a sound that made his blood run cold – the sound of a magazine being loaded in a gun.

"I know you're there," a soft voice said. "Come out with your hands up."

Frank took a deep breath, shouldered his pack, and slowly raised himself up from the ground, hands at shoulder height, fingers splayed. He let the breath out, turned around, and gasped.


	9. Nine

_Friday evening 5pm_

* * *

"Joe?" Fingers lightly grazed his shoulder. Reacting instinctively, Joe reached up and grabbed the hand, twisting it around in a vice-like grasp. A gasp. "Joe, it's Sarah." The fingers wriggled. "Joe, you're hurting me. _Let go._"

"Sorry," he mumbled, memories of the morning working their way into his conscious thoughts. He released her hand and rolled over to his other side, hissing as his ankle turned the wrong way. "Reflexes."

"It's okay." She flexed her hand, and a stab of guilt washed over him. Seeing his expression, she stopped, her lips forming a smile. "Really. It's okay. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that. You're protecting them even in your sleep. It's sweet." Her eyes softened then narrowed. "Did you get any sleep? You look awful."

"Thanks," he said, his voice dry. He pushed himself slowly up on his elbow, doing his best not to jostle his ankle. "And no. Not much." Once sitting, he leaned against Benj's bed and rubbed his eyes. "Benj had a nightmare. Several, actually. Fortunately, I managed to get him calmed down before the screaming started. He didn't even wake up." He stretched his arms out to the sides, a certain pressing need suddenly making itself known. "Uh, Sarah, is there a bathroom I can use where I won't attract too much attention?"

She nodded. "That's why I got you up. Most of my floormates have gone to the D.C. for dinner, and..."

"Wait, D.C.? Like Washington"

"Sorry." She rolled her eyes. "UMASS lingo. No like Berkshire dining commons. Anyway, it's Friday night, so the majority of them'll be heading off campus when they're done eating. I thought it might be a good time for you all to get cleaned up. I've got towels and soap and stuff, and I can run your clothes through the wash while we eat dinner. We can get something delivered."

Joe eyed her uncertainly. "That's a nice offer, but we can't really sit around your room in towels."

Sarah raised an eyebrow at him. "Your client's covering your expenses, right?"

"Yeah." He rubbed his eyes again, wondering where the conversation was going and hoping it would be short as the sports drinks she had forced him to drink were now making a visit to the bathroom a real necessity. A sound attracted his attention, and he opened his eyes. Sarah was sliding a large bag across the floor to him.

"I stopped at the campus store on my way back from class," she said. "Sweatshirts, pants, and socks. No underwear, but at least it's all clean. I guessed at the sizes. The receipt's in the bag." She shoved a hand down into the bottom of the bag and came out with a small parcel. "Oh, and an Ace bandage." She broke open the package and held it out to him. "I figured you might need it."

Joe had never before been so grateful for a hot shower. Between the cold rain on the mountain and the mud they had slogged through on the way down, he had felt sure he was never going to be warm and clean again. It was good to be proven wrong. The doors to the bathroom had opened once, but whoever it was had simply used the toilet and left. Once his heart rate slowed down, he turned off the water and dried off, then pulled on the new clothes –which thankfully fit – and knocked on the tiles of Benj's shower. "Time to finish up, buddy. We've got to get back."

After they all returned to the room, Sarah collected the towels and dirty clothes in a wicker basket, then headed for the door. "I ordered a pizza. It should be here by the time I get these in the washer. I'll be back."

While Benj teased Sunny about how long she had taken in the shower, Joe relaxed on one of the beds. Having spent so much time over the course of the day trying to keep Benj's nightmares from exploding, now that he was warm and clean, he could feel himself starting to doze. As his head drifted toward his chest, something scratched at his neck. He shifted his shoulders to dislodge whatever it was and sighed deeply, hoping to enjoy a few minutes of uninterrupted sleep before dinner.

The scratching sensation came back. Without thinking, he grabbed the hem of the shirt, pulled it over his head, and started running his hands over the neckline. "Come on," he muttered, sifting the fabric through his fingers. "Just fall out."

"D.. did you say...?" Sunny's voice came from across the room. "What h.. happened t.. to your shirt?" Joe looked up and saw Sunny staring at him, a faint blush starting to cover her cheeks.

"Uh. Nothing." He pulled the shirt closer to his chest, suddenly conscious of the inappropriateness of being only half-dressed in a room with two kids.

Benj came forward, completely oblivious to Joe's discomfort, grabbed the shirt from his hands, and settled it on his lap. /It's one of those tag-holder things,/ he signed. /Mine had one, too. It's right there./ He pointed to a transparent plastic string piercing the cloth, then looked up, his head cocked to one side. /Hey, Joe, what's that?/ Benj's finger lifted from the shirt to the scar on Joe's chest.

At the question, Sunny's eyes turned to Joe as well. "It l.. looks like..."

"A scar. Yeah. I had to have some surgery a while ago." He grabbed the shirt from Benj's hands, the plastic string still in place, and pulled it back over his head.

"Y.. you said you d.. didn't have a heart c.. condition," Sunny said accusingly, one hand tracing the location of the scar on her chest. "B.. but that scar..." She stood up, glaring at him. "What h.. happened? And d.. don't t.. tell us 'nothing'. There's an.. another scar on y.. your shoulder. _S.. Something_ caused those."

Joe sat for a long minute before answering, his lips pressed together. He'd forgotten how similar Sunny's powers of observation could be to Frank's. He swallowed, not wanting to lie to them after everything that had happened, but not wanting to tell the whole truth either. He settled for the short version of the story. "It wasn't my heart. It was my lung. I got shot."

/On a case?/ Benj's hands fluttered in front of him like nervous birds.

"Yeah." He wished the room wasn't so small or that they would move on to another topic of conversation, but he knew he wouldn't be that lucky.

"Wh.. what w.. were you d.. doing?"

"Protecting someone." His lips twisted into a bitter smile.

Benj stepped back. /Like you're protecting us?/

Joe shrugged. "Sort of."

"Who?" Joe's head swiveled around. Sunny had managed to ask the question without stuttering. Which meant she was either really angry or really frightened.

"A client. It doesn't matter." He shifted his gaze to the poster-covered walls, trying to signal the conversation was over.

"You t.. took a bullet for a c.. client?" The tone of surprise in her voice irritated him.

"No," he shot back, unable to stop the words from coming out. "It was someone else."

Sunny jumped to her feet. "Then who?" The question rang out in the room like a challenge. This time the anger was evident. "How do we know you're not lying if you..."

"It was Frank, all right?" The words exploded out of his mouth, leaving him momentarily breathless. He didn't want to be thinking about this. Not now when he didn't know where his brother was. "Some lunatic was trying to kill him, and I pushed him out of the way." He watched as Sunny sank back onto the bed as if her legs wouldn't hold her. Joe could see her hands shaking.

/Frank?!/ Benj's mouth formed a circle. /Why did someone want to kill Frank? He's harmless./

Joe barked out a short, harsh laugh. "Harmless isn't a word most people would use to describe Frank." He looked in Benj's eyes. "The guy you know isn't who Frank really is." He took a deep breath. "Frank's really good at undercover work. He can take elements of himself and just... _become _someone else. I've seen him do it hundreds of times, and it still blows my mind every time. Frank Hardy isn't clumsy. Or quite as socially inept as Frank Tennison. All of the awkwardness you've seen – the stammering, the tripping," he snorted, "the spilling things on me every chance he got – was carefully calculated to make everyone see a specific person. The part that's really smart and good with computers? That's Frank Hardy." He lifted his eyes to Sunny for a moment. "The book club was all him, too. I have no idea why, but he really does read Jane Austen." He scratched absently at the collar of his sweatshirt, his gaze drifting back to Benj. "There are elements of him _in_ Frank Tennison, but that's not who he is."

/But why was the guy trying to kill him?/

"He was crazy. He thought Frank was trying to... to hurt him, so he pulled out a gun. I shoved Frank into a wall to get him out of the line of fire."

/And you got shot instead? Why did you do that?/

Joe nodded. "He's my brother." His voice faltered, the worry he was feeling coming out in his words. "I couldn't let anything happen to him."

Benj turned and abruptly walked toward the window, his movements stiff, his hands close to his chest. Joe caught a few signs – brother, hurt, why? – before the boy's back obscured the rest of of his words.

"You're a d.. different p.. person than you p.. pretend to be, t.. too, aren't you? I thought I knew J.. Joe Miller, but if you d.. did that, you're n.. not really like him." Sunny had pulled her legs up onto the bed and sat with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her voice was subdued, and he saw her hands still shook slightly. The way she was looking at him made him think of a blind person gaining the ability to see for the first time and is unable to believe what is happening.

"I don't think I acted that different from who I am normally." He grimaced, remembering a few of their orchestrated incidents. "Most of the time, anyway. I think it's mostly how we're perceived by other people." He took a breath, grateful for the change in topic. "You saw someone who leaned towards being a bully, a guy who liked to pick on someone weaker than himself. I think others saw me as a bit of a twit, a joker who didn't take anything too seriously." He watched as different emotions played across her face – anger, disappointment, embarrassment. "When we're undercover, our job is to make sure people see what they expect to see, not the person who's really there underneath."

They all jumped as the door flew open behind them. "Dinner's here!" Sarah's cheerful expression stilled as she saw their faces. "I interrupted something, didn't I?"

"It's okay," Joe said. "We were just about done. What's on the pizza?"

After dinner, Sarah put on a movie for them to watch, but no one spoke. All four sat wrapped up in their own thoughts. Joe tried to figure out the next step. It was all well and good to keep the kids hidden for a day or so, but he was going to have to find a way to get them back to the school or to contact Kara. And Frank. _Where are you, 'bro? _He damped down thoughts of Frank having been captured by the guys on the trail and forced himself to focus on the others.

He knew that Sarah was worried about their safety, and Sunny's thoughts were on Frank, trying to merge Joe's description of his brother with the man she thought she had known, but he wasn't sure what was bothering Benj. Throughout dinner, the boy remained silent and withdrawn, picking at his food and keeping his eyes focused on other things. Joe was worried about him. Sunny was resilient, but he wasn't sure about Benj. Whatever the past trauma was in his life, it had left him mute, and Joe could only hope what was happening now wouldn't leave additional psychological scars.

When the movie ended, he sighed and called for lights out, hoping – but not honestly believing – they would all get some sleep.

_Saturday afternoon 3pm_

* * *

Friday night passed with relative peacefulness. The sounds of Sarah's floormates returning from their nights of revelry had woken Joe in the wee hours of the morning, but no one else seemed to have heard the noise and off-key singing coming from the hallway. Sarah and Sunny had slept through it all, and although Benj hadn't moved, Joe wasn't sure he had actually been asleep as there hadn't been any nightmares. By the time the sun rose Saturday morning, Joe wanted nothing more than to leave the dorm room; it was starting to feel like the walls of the z-shaped room were closing in on him.

The problem was he didn't know where they could go that would be safe. Until he knew where the information leak came from, going back to Pocumtuck was out of the question, and he didn't know the area well enough to know where else he could go with an Asian girl and a young African-American boy without attracting attention, so he gritted his teeth and stayed put.

After breakfast Sarah tried every charger in her room to see if one of them would fit Joe's phone, finally finding success with the fourth one, which made Joe wonder just how many portable devices one person needed. The victory was short-lived, though. Within ten minutes, a popping sound came from the phone, a sound Joe recognized as the circuits being fried from too much electrical current. Clenching his jaw to keep from swearing, he pulled the phone apart trying to salvage the SIM card, but it was no use. The card was blackened and useless. Sarah spent the next ten minutes apologizing until he finally barked at her to stop. Then he apologized. Up until that moment, he hadn't realized exactly how much he had been hoping for a message from his brother. Now he was stuck until he could figure out where Frank was. Or until Frank figured out where he was, which – _G__iven Frank's brains_, he thought – was more likely.

The day went downhill from there. Since their conversation the evening before, Benj had been taut as a strung wire. He jumped at every sound coming from the hallway, but turned away each time Joe tried to talk to him, spending all his time sitting on the bed and staring into space. Joe was worried about him, but decided to let the boy sit and process what was happening. On the other side of the room, Sunny sat at Sarah's desk, staring out the window at the rain, so caught up in her own thoughts she barely spoke, and Sarah was sprawled out on the floor working diligently on homework. In the silence, Joe's mind played a repeating tape loop of every possible thing that could have happened to his brother.

When mid-afternoon approached, Sunny and Sarah headed off to the bathroom for showers, leaving Joe alone with Benj for the first time since the day before. The boy was still as a statue, his knees drawn up to his chest, his face half-turned toward the wall, his eyes distant. Joe sat down on the bed next to him, listening to the springs protest as he put his weight on it.

"Benj?" No response. The boy might as well have been frozen. "Benj, look at me." Still nothing. "You're scaring me, buddy. Please. Just look at me." Benj's eyes flickered toward him, and Joe let out a relieved breath. "Look, I know this is scary, but it's just for a little while longer. I'm going to get you somewhere safe. I promise."

Benj shifted to face him, his expression blank. /Did it hurt?/

"Hurt? Did what...?" He stopped as the meaning behind the question hit him like a runaway locomotive. Benj was asking about the shooting. Of its own volition, Joe's hand moved up to his shoulder, his fingers curling around the scar hidden under his sweatshirt. "Yeah. It hurt." He swallowed. "A lot."

\How bad was it?\ Benj's eyes moved down to his lap.

"I almost died if that's what you're asking." The boy started, making the mattress squeak beneath them. Joe's hand clenched, and he realized where it was. Slowly, he moved it back to the bedspread, using it as leverage to slide back so he could lean against the wall.

Benj's hands moved slightly, flickering in front of his chest with delicate motions, but his eyes stayed downcast.

"What? I didn't get all of that, buddy."

/Were you scared?/

"Of dying? No. I was scared if I didn't do something _Frank_ would die." Benj's head popped back up, disbelief showing on his face, and Joe shrugged, feigning a nonchalance he didn't feel. "It all happened pretty fast. There wasn't really time to think about it. It's not something I want to repeat, but when I woke up in the hospital and saw Frank was okay, I knew I'd done the right thing."

The boy turned his head back toward the wall, but not before Joe saw tears forming in his eyes. /_My_ brother would have let the guy shoot me. He hates me./

"I don't understand. What do you mean 'he hates you'?" Joe asked.

/He came home once when I was little. He yelled at me. I didn't understand a lot of English then, but I knew the words were bad./ His hands faltered. /When my mother came home and heard him, she told him to stop. That if he couldn't be nice, he should leave. He went kind of crazy. I thought he was going to hit her./

"What happened?"

Benj took a shuddering breath. /He said something about not being their son anymore. And that it was my fault./

Joe's mouth dropped open. _What kind of asshole would say something like that? __This guy has some serious problems._

/My mom was crying. I was scared./ Tears started leaking from the corners of the boy's eyes. Joe put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and he seemed to calm down. He sniffed once and looked up at Joe. /I think he contacted them last year. Dad got really angry and slammed the phone down. Mom just looked at him, but I could tell something was wrong. The next fall they sent me to Pocumtuck./

Voices came from the other side of the door, and Joe saw Benj jump. "It's okay. It's just the girls."

Benj sat up straight and wiped his eyes. /Don't tell them I was crying. I don't want them to think I'm a baby./

"I won't." Joe made and 'X' over his heart with two fingers. "Cross my heart. Lie down and pretend you're asleep. That'll keep them from asking any questions."

The boy complied, curling up under the covers and closing his eyes. As Sunny and Sarah entered the room, Joe put a finger to his lips, then pointed to Benj. Both girls nodded. Sarah went back to her homework, and Sunny grabbed a book from the desk and started reading. Within a few minutes, Benj's breathing deepened, and Joe could tell the boy really was asleep. _I never realized how lucky I was to have a brother like Frank. Poor kid._ He put a hand on Benj's leg and settled in to watch him sleep.

_Sunday morning 9am_

* * *

By the time the sun came up the next morning, Joe felt like he was going crazy. He hadn't been stuck in one place so long since getting out of the hospital, and then, at least, it was his apartment. _And Kara __was__ with __me_. After two days stuck in Sarah's room he knew the location of every crack on the walls, how to get on the bed without making the mattress squeak, and that at least one of the people who lived on the floor was in desperate need of an education in good music. What he needed right now was a message from Frank, a long run, and Kara. And the order in which these things came didn't matter.

He had woken up at six-thirty in the morning, turned on Sarah's television and started flipping channels, hoping to get some sort of information. At seven, two local channels out of Springfield had local news broadcasts, and although he kept switching between them, neither ended up having any information of interest. Channel Forty made a brief mention of the North Korean nuclear tests but didn't give enough details for Joe to know if they were still in process or not. At eight, local news gave way to national morning talk shows that focused on feel-good stories from different parts of the country, none of them in New England. With a groan of frustration, Joe threw the remote at the pile of pillows on the floor.

"Channel Twenty-two does a local broadcast at nine." Sarah peeked out from under a blanket on the floor. "I always check it for the forecast."

Joe looked at his watch, then grunted. Forty minutes. He didn't think he could last that long.

Sarah stood up and stretched, watching him with concerned eyes. "You need some exercise.

"I need to figure out what the hell is going on," he said, an edge in his voice, his hands clenching into fists.

"You look like you're going to explode," Sarah said, her voice quiet. "And that's not going to help them." Her eyes went first to where Benj lay curled up in a ball, then to Sunny's still-sleeping form on the other bed.

Joe let out a breath, his shoulders slumping. "I know. You're right. I'm sorry."

"Of course I am," she shot back. "So, on the floor. Now."

Sarah _had_ been right. The stretching routine hadn't given Joe the exercise his body craved, but it cleared his mind by forcing him to think about something else, which he had needed.

By the time they were done, both kids were awake and eating dry cereal. Sarah picked up the remote and clicked the television back on. "I'll get the forecast then do more laundry. The washers and dryers are usually available now." Her phone made a buzzing sound. She picked it up, glanced at the screen, shrugged, and threw it on the bed.

The TV hummed to life, the picture flickering once or twice before clearing up to show a news studio. One of the newscasters, a young Hispanic woman, was holding a piece of paper. "This just in," she was saying, "an Amber Alert has been issued for two students missing from Pocumtuck Academy." Blurry pictures of Benj and Sunny flashed on the screen. The woman read their names and a brief description of each. "They were last seen with one of the teachers from the school, a man by the name of Joe Miller. Mr. Miller is six-two with blond hair and blue eyes. If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of these children, contact the State Police at the number shown on your screen."

Sunny choked on her mouthful of cereal. "What...?" In the background, Sarah's phone buzzed again.

Joe slashed his hand in the air. "Wait."

The newscaster was still talking. "And in a related story, police are investigating the apparent beating of another teacher at the school. Frank Tennison was found at the bottom of Goat Peak with life-threatening injuries." A distant part of Joe's brain heard Sunny gasp. "He is currently being kept in a medically-induced coma at Baystate Medical Center in Springfield. Police are hoping that doctors can bring him out of the coma sometime soon so they can question the teacher about the disappearance of the two students. Anyone who may have been hiking on Goat Peak on Thursday and may have seen anything are being asked to contact police. Now, onto other news."

Joe felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. _Life-threatening injuries? A medically-induced coma? No. _He sat heavily on Benj's bed, his ankle protesting at the sudden shifting of his body weight. A frantic tugging on his arm captured his attention. He turned to see Benj signing, but his brain wasn't functioning well enough to understand the boy's words. He shook his head, trying to clear it, then looked over Benj's head at Sarah. "I have to get down there."

"They can stay here," Sarah said without hesitation. "I can protect them."

"No. I can't do that. They have to stay with me." From the bed, he heard the phone buzz again.

"Joe, that's crazy." Sarah hands punctuated the last word. "They just showed photos of them on TV. Anyone who sees the three of you together..."

"N.. no." Sunny's voice was quiet but firm. "If he g.. goes, we're g.. going with him." Benj stood next to her, his face drawn, his head nodding in agreement.

The phone sounded again. "Will you just shut up already?" Sarah grumbled at it. She pulled the device from the bed, and slid open the screen, her face growing pale.

In one step, Joe was at her side. "Who is it?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't recognize the number." She showed him the screen. "It's the same one, though. This is the third or fourth call this morning."

"Turn it off," he barked, watching as she fumbled with the power button. "Phones can be used as GPS trackers." He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the window. "Damn it. Someone's made the connection." He locked his eyes on to hers. "And if that's happened, baseball bat or not, I can't leave you here unprotected. You'll have to come with us. I'm sorry."

She stared at him for a long moment, her lips pressed together. "Okay. We can take my car. I know how to get to the hospital."

He turned to Sunny and Benj, who were now standing by the door, shoes and coats on. "All set?" They nodded. "If the police don't know who I really am, it's going to be tricky getting in to see Frank." He scanned their faces, making sure Sarah knew she was included. "I need your word that once we get to the hospital you'll listen to me and do exactly what I say. No arguing, no back talk. Do you understand?" Sunny and Sarah murmured their agreement, and Benj nodded. "Good. Sarah, you and Benj go first. Sunny and I will follow in a few minutes. We've already been seen together. Don't get too far ahead. We'll need to see which car is yours."

Sarah took Benj's hand and squeezed it once. He nodded at her and they walked toward the door. "Toyota Camry. Dark blue." She rattled off a plate number. "We'll see you down there."

Joe kept his eyes on the clock on the desk, willing it to move faster. One minute, two minutes, three minutes. Finally, he put an arm around Sunny's shoulders. "Just keep your head down, and we should be fine."

"H.. he'll b.. be all right," she said, looking up into his eyes. "I'm sure of it."

A lump formed in Joe's throat, and he swallowed around it. "Thanks," he said, his voice husky. "Let's go. I don't want them out there by themselves for too long."

The door slammed shut behind them.


	10. Ten

_Sunday morning 7:30am_

* * *

_The knock at the door pulled Frank's attention from the paper he was writing for his Winter Session English class. "Mr. Hardy?"_

_The voice startled him. As everyone else had gone home for the January break, for the last week or so, he'd been the only person in his hall and had become accustomed to a certain amount of silence. The first thing that got his attention him was the gender of the voice's owner – it was definitely female; the second thing was the address. _Mister,_ he thought, _who would be calling me Mister?_ He turned to the door. "That's me. How can I help you?"_

_The girl's appearance took him back a step. Despite the snow on the ground, she wasn't wearing either a coat or boots. Her short stature – she looked to be nearly a foot shorter than he was – made her look younger than she probably was, but she carried herself with assurance and a bit of bravado. _She's got some authority, _he thought_, but she hasn't had it very long. And she gets challenged a lot._ If Frank had to guess, he would have said she was about his age, maybe a year older. Her long, brown hair back was pulled back into a severe bun, and she wore a nondescript dark suit, the jacket hiding a holstered gun. In one hand she held the handles to a laptop case, in the other a badge that she had just pulled from her pocket._

"_Kara Malone, FBI." She flashed the badge at him, then shoved it back in her pocket. "I need to ask you some questions about Roger Gardner."_

_Frank's eyebrows rose. "I haven't heard from him in months. Is he all right?"_

_She looked pointedly at the open door. "May I come in?"_

"_Of course." He held the door as she entered the room then closed it behind her. "Please, sit," he said, indicating the desk chair. Her perched on the edge of his bed, so she wouldn't have to look up at him. "Is Roger all right?"_

"_Mr. Hardy, when was the last time you saw your roommate?"_

"_Last semester." Frank told her the date. "We had an argument – one of several, actually, and when I came back from my programming mid-term his half of the room had been cleared out."_

"_And you haven't heard from him since then?" She leaned forward._

"_No." He let some of the annoyance he was feeling slip out into the word. "Agent Malone, perhaps if you could tell me where you're going with your inquiry, I could better assist you. Has something happened to Roger?"_

_She gave him a level gaze as if sizing him up and deciding how much to say. Finally, she let out a breath. "About three weeks ago, Peter and Emily Gardner received a letter from someone threatening to kidnap their son."_

_Frank gasped. "What?"_

"_The letter demanded ten thousand dollars as a down payment to keep him safe. The implication was that the request would be repeated at regular intervals." She paused. "They were able to raise two thousand and contacted us when the kidnappers refused the lesser amount." _

"_They're still in Africa, then."_

"_What do you mean?" The agent 's eyes narrowed, her tone wary. _

"_They were negotiating with the kidnappers," Frank explained. "That generally doesn't work in this country, does it?"_

_The girl shifted in her seat. "We traced the letters to a location in New Mexico, but when we got there, this," she handed Frank the carrying case, "was all we found."_

_He unzipped the bag and reached inside, growing still as his fingers recognized what it was. He pulled the machine free of the bag, turning it over in his hands. "Roger's laptop," he breathed. _

_Her eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"_

"_I was with him when he bought it." He pointed to some scratches on the battery panel. "That's his student number. Were there any prints on it?"_

"_They told me you were an amateur detective," she said, emphasizing the word 'amateur.'. Frank bristled slightly. "Mr. Gardner's were the only prints we found." A look of annoyance darkened her eyes. "Our tech guys have been all over it, but his parents seemed to think _you _might be able to find something they missed." Her tone let Frank know she thought having him look at it would be a waste of time but that she had been overruled._

"_Well, let's see." He booted up the machine and clicked on various keys, shaking his head when nothing happened, and finally giving up and restarting the machine. This time, instead of loading the operating system, he the F8 key repeatedly until a menu appeared on the screen, then used the arrow keys to select 'Safe Mode with Command Prompt'. There was silence for a few minutes as Frank typed and scanned the onscreen output. He hit a few keys, raising his eyebrows as the word 'Password?' became visible._

"_What?" _

"_He password protected it." Frank frowned. "Give me a few minutes."_

_The agent looked at her watch. "We had some of the best techs in the country working on this, and they didn't find anything."_

"_I've been Roger's roommate and friend for the last several years. I know him better than your techs would." He managed to keep his voice level as he said the words._

_She arched an eyebrow at him but didn't respond. _

_His fingers moved on the keyboard. Nothing. Another try. Again nothing. The minutes ticked by, with each new attempt failing. Finally, Frank stopped. He let out a frustrated breath, then closed his eyes, trying to picture the room as it had looked when Roger lived there. _

_Roger had never had many possessions. Growing up at dig sites, he tended to travel light, keeping everything he owned in one trunk. His prized possession had been a small, first edition botanical encyclopedia, about which Frank had teased him mercilessly given his friend's inability to keep any plant alive longer than one week. He concentrated, trying to remember the book's title and author, then slowly struck the appropriate keys. The cursor blinked at him. A sudden thought occurring to him, he hit the up arrow, then clicked the backspace key, retyping the word, but replacing its vowels with numbers – a zero for the letter 'O', three for the letter 'E', and one for the letter 'I'._

_A menu appeared on the laptop's monitor. "Yes." The word hissed out from between his teeth._

_A look of curiosity covered the girl's face. She stayed in her chair for another few seconds, then sighed, vacating the desk chair and moving next to him. When she saw the screen, her mouth dropped open. "How did you do that?"_

"_I told you. I know Roger."_

"_And if you hadn't known him could you still have done it?", she asked, a note of challenge in her voice._

"_Yes. Even without the password, I would have gotten here eventually. It just would have taken longer." _

"_So, you're that good?" This time the tone was disbelief. _

"_Yes. I am." Frank's voice was matter-of-fact. _

"_Sorry." A flush became discernible on the agent's cheeks._

"_Apology accepted," he said, turning back to the computer. "Now give me a minute." His fingers flew across the keyboard, the silence of the room growing more oppressive as the seconds ticked past. After a few more keystrokes, he closed his eyes and shook his head. _

"_What?"_

"_The data's been erased." He clenched his teeth together. _

"_I don't understand," she said. "You got in."_

_Frank nodded. "With the password. That's what's so frustrating." He turned to look her in the eyes. "And that fact means just one thing." His eyes grew troubled. "Roger was the one who did it."_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He could feel the oxygen mask back on his face, and he lay still for a moment enjoying the feeling of pure oxygen in his lungs before allowing his eyes to flutter back open.

"Frank, are you all right?" Dr. Finley stood over him, concern written all over his face. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Peter and Emily," he whispered. "Roger's parents." He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to shut out his emotions, to focus on facts alone, took a deep breath, then opened them to look at the doctor. "How long was I out this time?"

"Not long. Fifteen, twenty minutes." The doctor watched as Frank started to pull the oxygen mask from his face. "Let me help you with that." He held the mask between his hands. "This was mostly a precaution. Why?"

"More puzzle pieces fell into place." He rubbed his eyes, then looked around. "Where's Chet?"

"With the boy's parents. They're pretty shaken up. Do you want to talk to them?"

Frank shook his head. "Not yet. I need to talk to Chet first."

The doctor nodded, then walked out the door. Within seconds, Chet had returned, his expression showing exactly how worried he was. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Frank brushed the question aside, concentrating on keeping his emotions in check. "I need a map of the area. And a list of all the staff members at the school."

"I can get that," his friend said. "What are you thinking?"

The door opened, and both men turned to see Dr. Finley re-enter the room.

"There hasn't been a ransom note," Frank said, aware that the doctor was watching him intently. "If someone had them, there would have been some sort of contact already. Kara said her aunt was worried about the North Koreans using her daughter's life as something to trade for her father's notes.

Chet's eyes widened. "So if there's no note..."

"It's possible Joe got away, that he's hiding them somewhere." A wrinkle appeared on Frank's forehead as he concentrated. "I need to visualize the area. If I could remember..." He shook his head, some of his focus slipping.

"What do you need to know?" The doctor's voice sharpened his attention. "I live here. I can help."

Frank handed him the notebook. "Can you draw me a map?"

"It won't be a good one," Finley warned. "My artistic skills aren't up to yours."

"Generalities are fine." He watched as the doctor drew some lines on the paper.

"This is Route Ninety-One," he said, the pencil making scratching noises. "Springfield is here." He drew a circle. "Northampton is here. Goat Peak – where they found you – is about here. Deerfield is up over here."

Frank pointed to the blank space on the right side of the page. "What's over here?"

"Amherst." He wrote the word on the page.

"Didn't Phil apply to Amherst College?" Chet asked, looking at the map.

"Yeah. He and his folks went out there to look at it." Frank leaned back against the pillows. I remember being surprised that he wasn't looking at UMASS instead; the computer department wasn't..." His voice trailed off, dark spots flickering before his eyes again. He closed them and concentrated on breathing. _Not now,_ he thought. _Not. Now._

"Frank? Frank!" Chet's voice was close to his ear. Frank opened his eyes and peered at his friend. His features were blurry.

Dr. Finley was reaching for the oxygen mask. "Frank, keep your eyes focused on me."

Frank turned his head to the doctor, waving off the mask. "I'm fine."

"Like hell you are," Chet said. "You just turned whiter than those sheets."

"The university," Frank murmured. "Twenty thousand people in the space of a mile."

"What?" Chet and Finley's faces wore identical expressions of confusion.

"That's our haystack. That's where he's hiding." He stared at them, willing them to understand, watching as Chet's eyes widened as the meaning of the words sank in. "I need that list of staff members, Chet. Now." He forced himself to focus as Chet called Pocumtuck's headmaster and asked the man for the information that was needed. "Phone numbers," he said, "I need phone numbers."

Chet nodded. "Thank you, sir," he said into the phone. "The sooner, the better." He ended the call, his eyes shifting to Frank's. "He's emailing the list to me now." His lips quirked into a half smile as Frank opened his mouth to speak. "With phone numbers." The phone in his hands rang with a bell-like sound. "Here we go." He opened the email and handed the phone to Frank who scrolled slowly through the list.

"That one doesn't have a subject listed next to it." Frank pointed to a name at the bottom of the document. "Sarah McIntyre. What does she teach?"

"She doesn't." All three men jumped at the voice, having been so intent on their task, they hadn't noticed anyone entering. Kara stood in the doorway, dirt smudging her clothes, dark circles under her eyes, her hair ruffled around her face. "She's a student intern. Why?"

Chet bustled over to her. "You look like you're about to collapse. Sit."

"I'm fine." The words were clipped, her tone brusque.

"Great." Chet squared his shoulders. "Be fine in the chair so I don't have to catch you when you fall over."

Kara's grim expression lightened for a moment. She inclined her head. "Yes, sir," she said in a soft voice. A grimace covered her face as she lowered herself into the chair. "More to the point, she's _Joe's_ student intern. Why?"

Frank picked up the phone from the table beside the bed, dialed the number on the screen, then dropped the receiver down with a snarl. "It won't let me call an out-of-state number."

Finley pulled a cell phone from his pocket and held it out. Frank nodded his thanks and redialed the number. After a seeming eternity, a girl's voice came from the phone.

"You've reached Sarah's phone. You know what to do." Then a long electronic beep.

"Sarah, this is Frank..." he paused, not knowing what name he had been using. "From the school. I need to talk to Joe. If he's with you, can you have him call me back at this number?" The doctor wrote the number on the map, and Frank recited it into the phone. "Sarah, this is really important. If you know where Joe is, please have him call me as soon as possible." He disconnected the call, feeling his jaw tighten in frustration, and held the device out to the doctor. From the corner of his eye he saw Kara jump to her feet, her eyes growing wide.

"Hold on to it," Finley said. "Keep trying. She's a college student, and it's early. She might be asleep."

"Frank, what's going on?" Kara demanded.

"He thinks he knows where Joe might be," Chet said, one hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back into the chair.

"It's only a theory," Frank said. "I don't know for sure. I don't know _anything_ for sure right now."

"But..."

A knock at the door interrupted Kara's words, and Peter Gardner's head appeared. "May we come back in?"

Dr. Finley looked at Frank. "Are you up for it?"

"Sure." _No._ "Give me a minute." He looked at Chet then at the door, hoping his friend would understand the message in his eyes.

Chet nodded and turned to Kara. "Have you eaten anything since yesterday?" When she didn't answer, he sighed. "Come on. Let's let them have a few minutes. I'll feed you."

She glared at him for a moment. "I don't have time."

"Coffee, then. Come on." He pulled her from the room.

When the room was empty, Dr. Finley turned to Frank again. "Are you sure about this?"

Frank shook his head. "No, but it's their son out there."

The doctor nodded. "Do you want me to leave as well?"

There was a short pause, then Frank let out a breath. "Given my reaction to their first appearance, it's probably better if you stay."

"Okay. I'll let them know it needs to be short."

A minute or so later, the Gardners re-entered the room followed by Finley. Emily crossed to the bed, giving Frank a quick, fierce hug. "Frank. We had no idea..."

Peter Gardner laid a hand on his wife's arm. "Let the boy breathe, dear."

Emily jumped back as if she were on fire. "I'm sorry," she said, blinking back tears. "It's just..." She leaned into her husband's embrace for a moment, then turned back to the bed. "Are you all right?"

Frank grimaced and looked down at the blankets covering his legs. "I'll recover." He lifted his gaze back to the distraught parents. "They told you. About my memory?" Both Gardners nodded. "I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you something. _Anything._"

"Do you remember anything about Beniam?" Peter's voice cracked on the name.

"Benj," Emily corrected. "He prefers to be called Benj." She took her husband's hand, squeezing it hard. "I just can't believe this is happening again."

"Again?" Frank's voice rang through the room. "What do you mean _again_?"

"Benj was kidnapped about four years ago." Emily continued holding her husband's hand as she spoke, her eyes moving to his clenched jaw. "He was rescued by one of the site workers, but it.. it changed him."

"He stopped talking." This time Frank's voice was a whisper.

Emily sniffed and nodded. "He hasn't said a word since his return."

Frank closed his eyes for a moment, sifting through the memories he had. Words broke into his ruminations. "I think that might be enough for now." Dr. Finley was speaking to Peter and Emily. "He's been having a tough time of it."

"No. Wait." He looked up, his eyes meeting Emily's. "The letter you got. When you sent Kara... the FBI agent to see me with Roger's laptop. Which son was being threatened?"

This time Peter answered. "Beniam. Why?"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Sunday morning 8:45am_

* * *

"You want to what?" Kara's voice rose an octave as she spoke. "No way. It's too dangerous. You're hurt!"

"I have to agree with Agent Malone, Frank" the doctor said. "In your condition, this isn't something I can recommend."

Frank sighed and looked at Chet, who shook his head. "You've already made up your mind about this haven't you, boss?" He sighed, knowing the answer. "Explain it to us one more time. I'm not saying you're going to get cooperation, but..." He shrugged his shoulders and leaned against the wall. Frank could see how exhausted he was – they all were – and felt a twinge of guilt.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," he said. "Look, Kara, your time is up on searching. The police are going to issue the Amber Alert anyway. We can use it to lure the kidnappers here." His hand curled around Finley's phone. He had called Sarah's number several more times without getting an answer, and was feeling the need to do something.

"No," Kara said, her hands gripping the side of the bed so hard her knuckles were turning white. "There are too many unknowns, too many things that could go wrong, too many..."

"If they think I have information, they'll come here," Frank said, cutting across her words. "If they're at the hospital looking for me, then they're not out there," he pointed out the window, his voice getting louder, "looking for Joe and the kids." He watched as she swallowed convulsively, her jaw trembling. "It's a bona fide kidnapping case, Kara. Station agents at the nurses' desk. Hell, you can stick one in the bathroom here for all I care. All I'll need to do is lie here and pretend to be unconscious. As soon as someone comes in the room that you don't recognize, you grab him." He forced himself to a sitting position, trying hard not to grimace or groan as his injured ribs and shoulders protested the movement. "If you've got a better idea, I'd love to hear it."

They stared at one another for a long minute, Frank counting each breath as it creaked against his ribs.

"Fine." The word was so soft he wasn't sure she had actually spoken. "You win. But if you get yourself hurt worse because your overinflated ego can't stand _not_ to be in the middle of this, I'll kill you."

Frank snorted, laughing suddenly, then wincing at the pain in his chest. "Deal." He wrapped an arm around his ribs. "Ow. Don't make me laugh. It hurts."

Chet rolled his eyes, a chuckle escaping his lips. "You're not filling us with confidence, here, Frank." He took a deep breath. "Okay, so how do we do this?"

"Kara contacts the state police with information for the Amber Alert and then follows up with a story to the local news stations about me." Frank eased himself back down to the bed. "Dr. Finley, can you make sure we've got the right equipment in here? We'll need it to look right."

The doctor's face was grim. "I need to remind you that you really are injured, Frank. A fractured skull isn't anything to mess around with. If anything goes wrong, the memory loss could be compounded. Or become permanent."

Frank swallowed. "I understand, but it's a risk I have to take. Whether it's the North Koreans or someone with a grudge against the Gardners, we have to catch them so those kids can be safe."

Kara stood. "I'll go call the barracks. We'll saturate the airwaves with the information. With any luck we can have it on radio, television, and the web within minutes." She turned to Dr. Finley. "Can you get whatever machinery in here you need to make it look like he's being monitored, ASAP? The sooner it's all set up, the better off we'll be." At the door, she turned back to face them. "Frank. Be careful."

He nodded.

A moment later, Dr. Finley followed her from the room. "Hold onto the phone," he said. "Keep trying the girl. See if you can get ahold of your brother. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Are you sure about this?" Chet stood by the bed, straightening up the pile of drawings on the table. He flipped through them one after the other, finally stopping at the picture of Anna as Mary Magdalene.

Frank took the picture, held it for a moment, then handed it back to Chet, placing it face down on the stack. "Yes. It's the only way I can think of to keep them safe."

"And what if Joe sees the story? He'll completely freak out." Chet's fingers crumpled the edges of the drawings.

"I know." Frank's eyes moved to the window. "And knowing Joe, he'll try to get here to find me." He turned his gaze back to Chet. "Which will put the kids in Kara's path. Either way, they're safe, which, from what I've been told, is what we were hired to do. Keep them safe."

"You are either the bravest or the stupidest man I've ever met, Frank Hardy." Chet shook his head. "And it's a privilege to call you my friend." He let out a breath. "Now lie still. If you've got to pretend to be unconscious, you may as well start now."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

At nine, Chet turned on the television. "Kara said to put on Channel Twenty-Two." The screen instantly lit up the room, showing a news studio. They watched a minute or two of the local forecast before one of the newscasters interrupted the meteorologist. "This just in," she read from a paper in her hand, "an Amber Alert has been issued for two students missing from Pocumtuck Academy."

Frank peered at the pictures shown on the screen – the tall, athletic Asian girl and the smaller, dark-skinned boy – and tried to remember anything he could about them, shaking his head in anger when he wasn't able to. _Don't try to force it, _he thought. _It will come back. It has to. _He wrenched his attention back to the television.

"They were last seen with one of the teachers from the school, a man by the name of Joe Miller. Mr. Miller is six-two with blond hair and blue eyes. If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of these children, contact the State Police at the number shown on your screen."

The young woman paused, turning her head as the camera changed its angle. "And in a related story, police are investigating the apparent beating of another teacher at the school. Frank Tennison was found at the bottom of Goat Peak with life-threatening injuries." Frank nodded; Kara had come up with something plausible and not totally inaccurate. "He is currently being kept in a medically-induced coma at Baystate Medical Center in Springfield. Police are hoping that doctors can bring him out of the coma sometime soon so they can question the teacher about the disappearance of the two students. Anyone who may have been hiking on Goat Peak on Thursday and may have seen anything are being asked to contact police. Now, onto other news."

"Well?" Chet clicked off the TV. They both turned as the door opened and watched as Dr. Finley and a nurse entered the room with a wheeled cart holding a computerized monitoring station.

"That should do it." Frank hit the redial button on the phone and handed it to Chet. "Here, this time you try. Looks like I'm going to be busy for a few minutes. Maybe you'll have better luck."

Chet held the device to his ear, then shook his head. "It rang once and went right to voice mail. She must've turned it off."

Frank let out a long breath, twitching as sensors were again taped to his chest. "She probably got tired of getting phone calls from a number she doesn't recognize." He looked at Chet. "You should probably head out."

"What do you want me to do?" Chet tried to hand him back the phone, but Frank nodded at the doctor.

"Why don't you go sit with Peter and Emily? They could probably use someone to take care of them." He smiled at his friend. "I may not remember everything, but I know that's something you're good at."

"Are you sure?" Frank could tell Chet didn't like the idea of leaving him alone.

"I'm just going to sit here and wait." He gave his friend what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "Don't worry. It's all going to be fine."


	11. Eleven

_Sunday morning 11am_

* * *

Frank discovered the flaw in his plan almost immediately. To fool a layman into believing he was in a coma, all he had to do was lie still with his eyes closed – the machinery Dr. Finley had just hooked him up to would reinforce the suggestion – so logically speaking the plan would be easy to execute. Between the strained muscles, the bruises, and the broken bones, there wasn't a single part of him that didn't hurt, and – if he wanted to be honest with himself – not moving was actually a relief.

The problem, he found after the first few minutes, was in having to keep his eyes closed. Not only could he not see anyone who might be coming in his room, whether it was a friend or someone possibly intent on doing him harm, the combination of pain medication, an aching head, and the rhythmic beeping of the monitors kept threatening to lull him into light doze which he knew would rapidly turn into a deep sleep. _And I really don't want to get myself killed because I was napping on the job_, he thought, as he fought against the heaviness weighing down his arms and legs. _C'mon Hardy, focus. _Images started flickering in his mind, memories struggling to come to the surface. As much as he wanted them returned, he knew he had to concentrate on what he was doing, or he was going to lose the battle. _Focus, damn it. Just... _His head listed to one side as sleep again overtook him.

Almost immediately, a flurry of images filled his dreams, flickering out of the dark like flames from a candle. He saw Anna on stage in her costume, then she appeared at a sink washing dishes and flicking suds at someone – was it him? – wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, her hair in braids, a smile lighting up her face. She turned away, and Joe appeared, standing in an empty office, gesticulating wildly as he pointed to various spots in the room, his face a study in concentration, his left foot tapping rhythmically on the floor. His brother's face gave way to an image of Phil Cohen who stared at him, confused and hurt, in a crowded hallway. His parents waited in one of many nondescript hospital rooms, their faces exhausted but relieved. Aunt Gertrude sat at the kitchen table, packing cookies into colorful tins. Kara stood opposite him, her gun drawn and pointed at him, her eyes glittering in anger.

"_Explain to me again _why _I'm dressed like this?" Agent Malone's irritation radiated from her like an aura surrounding her body. Her eyes were granite and her shoulders so tight Frank could almost see the proverbial chip on them, both of which provided an interesting contrast to the purple-tipped ponytails hanging from either side of her head and the artfully torn, pink 'Hello Kitty' t-shirt she wore over a black tank top. _

"_It's a disguise," Frank said, making sure to keep his voice even. He was fairly sure her service revolver was hidden somewhere in the baggy camouflage pants she wore, and he didn't want to antagonize her. There was something about the operation that displeased her, and he hoped it wasn't him. After all, she had been the one to call him. He cleared his throat before continuing. "One that would be more effective if you didn't carry yourself like a federal agent."_

"_I _am_ a federal agent," she snarled, glaring at him. "Or have you forgotten that fact?"_

_Frank pushed the bangs from his eyes. He hated when his hair was this long. Even though he knew it was necessary for the job, it made it hard to see everything he needed to. "Not now you're not. _Now_ you're Carrie McAllister. You can keep the anger as part of your character – it fits the pseudo-goth look you've got going on – but you've got to loosen up your posture, or no one's going to buy that you're who you say you are. Watch." He took a breath, then relaxed his shoulders making his neck to droop slightly, the hair flopping back over his eyes, then forced his expression into one of annoyance. "Dad said I hafta look out for you, so you gotta come with me. Got it?" The words, spoken in a nasal Boston accent, sounded bored and resigned._

_Malone stilled, her eyes widening. "How do you do that?"_

"_Practice," Frank said in the other voice. "A whole lotta practice." He straightened up, cleared his throat, and raised an eyebrow at her. "Your turn."_

_She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. As she exhaled, she slumped her shoulders down, tilted her head to the side, and shifted so most of her weight was on her right leg. When she opened her eyes, most of the anger was gone, replaced by a petulant sullenness. "This better?" Her native Boston accent had deepened, the 'r' at the end of the word disappearing._

"_What's your name?" Frank straightened up, deliberately using his own voice._

_She rolled her eyes at him. "Really? You can't keep track of your sister's name? Jerk."_

"_And who am I?"_

"_Zack McAllister," she said, a hint of loathing in her voice. "My wicked lame older brother. Loser who's never met a comic book or a computer he doesn't like better than a person."_

_Frank nodded. "Not bad. You're still a little stiff. And don't embellish too much. It's easier if you keep it simple."_

_Malone straightened, her expression changing to one of grudging respect. "It's not just computers you're good at, is it?"_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_You make this look easy," she said, her hand making a sweeping motion. "I called you from out of nowhere to assist us, and not only are you _not _nervous, you're giving me advice on how to go undercover. How long have you been doing this anyway?"_

"_A long time." Frank pushed the hair out of his eyes again. "My brother and I have been solving mysteries for years. Sometimes with our dad, sometimes on our own."_

"_If he's anything like you, we could use you both at the FBI."_

_A chuckle escaped from Frank's lips. "Uh, no. Joe doesn't do real well with people telling him what to do. He'd spend more time in trouble than on the job." He shook his head. "Definitely not. Once he graduates we're opening our own agency..."_

A sound from the other side of the room started him from sleep, his thought processes kicking in just quickly enough to keep from opening his eyes. His shoulders tensed slightly as footsteps moved closer to the bed.

"Frank?" His name was whispered into the air. The speaker was male, his voice tantalizingly familiar.

Frank lay still, waiting, unsure where he had heard it before. _On the mountain? _ All he knew was that it had been recently.

There was the sound of a hand lightly slapping a forehead. "Right. What was it?" A pause. "Ave Maria... No, wait... Oh, yeah. Magdalene." A longer pause. "Frank?" This time there was a note of concern.

Heart pounding, Frank opened his eyes, trying to release the tension he felt. Magdalene was the code word that Kara had insisted on so he would know when it was safe to 'wake up'. A sigh of relief came from the side of the bed.

The man watching him was maybe two or so inches shorter than Frank – it was hard to tell from this angle – with short-cropped black hair and hazel eyes. His stocky build made Frank wonder if he had been a football player at some point in his life. "You scared me there for a moment," he said, a shaky grin covering his face. "Do you need a drink?"

Frank shook his head. "No. Thank you."

"You don't remember me, do you?" The man cocked his head to one side, the grin fading. He wiped a hand across his forehead, a nervous gesture. "Kara told me, but..." He straightened up, his expression troubled. "I'm Kara's partner. Travis."

A faint memory fluttered through Frank's brain. "Agent Welker. Dr. Finley mentioned your name." His brow creased as another memory surfaced and he struggled to hold on to it. "You were with Kara when she found me. I recognize your voice."

The agent's eyes brightened, and he nodded. "I've got to tell you, Frank, you were a real mess, and that's saying something. I mean, I'm the one who found you after Hansen..." Travis broke off, watching as the blood drained from Frank's face. "Are you all right?"

A tsunami of images flooded Frank's brain. _An office with cubicles. Flickering screens full of computer code. A dark basement. Lying on a cot, chains around his ankles. _He shuddered, fear suddenly making him cold, then closed his eyes and took a few gulps of air. Forcing his eyes back open, he turned to face Travis. "I'm fine. Just a few more memories returning." He took a deep breath, trying to slow his heart rate before one of the nurses rushed back in to see what was happening. "I'll take that drink now if the offer's still open."

Travis poured a glass of water and held it out, watching as Frank reached for it with a shaking hand. When he was satisfied Frank wasn't going to spill it all over himself, he let go of the cup, taking it back once Frank had drained it. "I just wanted to let you know I'm going to be staking out your bathroom for a while." He jerked his thumb towards the door on the other side of the room, a half-smile appearing on his face. "Your buddy Chet wasn't feeling sanguine about your ability to stay awake for however long this is going to take, and he put a bug in Kara's ear. The upshot is that we're going to take turns hiding out in there. Just so you'll have back up."

"Sounds good." Frank lay back against the pillows, the sudden rush of emotion leaving him drained. "Thank you."

"No problem. Get some rest." Travis headed for the bathroom, turning back for a moment before entering. "You don't snore, do you?"

Frank shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of." Not that it was going to be an issue. Despite his exhaustion, sleeping was the last thing he felt like doing right now. If he wanted to be honest, he was worried what his dreams might show him.

Travis nodded, then shrugged. "I'm sure Joe would have mentioned it over the years if you did. That's doesn't seem like the kind of thing your brother would keep to himself." He stepped in the small bathroom, then stepped out again almost immediately. "I need you to do me a favor, though." He paused. "If anyone does come in here, let me deal with him." Frank looked up at him, his eyes feeling anything but heavy, his heart still beating fast. "Because if you don't, Kara will kill me. Okay?"

"Sure." Frank forced a brief smile on his face, the memory of something Travis had once said to him surfacing from his mind. "Don't irritate the lady with the Glock, right?"

The agent's grin returned. "See, your memory's coming back already." The bathroom door swung nearly closed, and Frank settled back against the pillow, the smile fading from his lips as memories from the assignment Travis had alluded to started playing in his mind. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on what he could remember of his time with Anna, hoping these thoughts would drown out the other ones now filling his head. Slowly, his breathing became more relaxed, more regular, and he settled down to wait.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Sunday afternoon 1pm_

* * *

By the time they made it to the hospital, Joe was a tight as a taut wire.

What should have been a forty-five minute drive – thirty-five if you ignored the speed limit, which Joe had every intention of ordering Sarah to do – stretched out to over three hours, and was threatening to push him over the edge. Traffic on the only route leading to the highway had been whittled down to one lane due to combination of construction and a five-car pile up. As Sarah's Camry moved at a snail's pace past dozens of police cars and emergency vehicles, it was all Joe could do to just sit, his jaw clenched and his head down, and pretend to be asleep. Sunny and Benj followed his lead, pulling the hoods of their sweatshirts over their heads and leaning back against their seats.

When they finally passed over the bridge spanning the Connecticut River, away from the sirens and construction noise, voices emanating from the dashboard speakers caught his attention. "... school... under condition of anonymity..." From the corner of his eye, he saw Sunny's head snap up and knew she had also heard the words. His left hand flashed toward the volume control, turning it up a couple of notches.

"... says the two teachers hated each other, and intimated that the police should look more at Frank Tennison's background."

Joe growled. "Phillip," he said, his voice dripping venom, "that piece of..." A hand slapped him on the back of the head, and he turned to see an angry Sunny glaring at him, her index finger at her lips.

"L.. listen now. S.. swear afterwards." She turned her eyes to the radio.

"Right." Joe shifted back in his seat and put out his hand to raise the volume again. _Frank first. __Punching out l__oud-mouthed computer science teacher later. _

"... primary goal is getting the children home safely," a male voice was saying. A familiar male voice. Joe let out a relieved breath, feeling a small amount of the tension in shoulders release.

Sarah noticed and gave him a brief sideways glance, her blue eyes alight with curiosity. "What? That's not a noise I've heard you make in the last forty-eight hours or so."

"Kara's here."

Sunny's head popped up over the edge of his seat. "H.. how d.. do you know?"

Joe turned toward the back seat so he could see both Sunny and Benj's faces. "That last voice? That was Travis."

/Travis who?/ Benj asked. /I don't understand./

"He's Kara's partner," Joe said, a small smile forming on his lips. "If he's making statements on the radio, she's around here somewhere." Despite his worry over his brother's condition, just knowing Kara was relatively close by made him feel lighter, as if he was no longer doing this alone. "Dollars to doughnuts, she's at the hospital keeping an eye on Frank." _It wouldn't be the first time_.

Getting into the hospital was easier than Joe had thought it would be. While a much smaller city than Manhattan, Springfield was still an urban center and its hospital reflected that both in the sheer number of people milling around the lobby and in the variety of ethnic groups those people represented. Finding out what room Frank was in also turned out to be surprisingly simple. They hung back, hiding in the crowd, as Sarah approached the information desk. Within seconds, she was back, her expression a carefully controlled blank.

Joe went still, coldness creeping into his veins. "What?"

"He's in room five-nineteen." She huddled in closer to them.

For a moment he let the relief flood through him – they wouldn't have given a room number if Frank was... _Not going there, _he thought – then his eyes narrowed into shards of blue ice. "Wait, they just told you? They didn't ask for ID? Or for your name?"

"No." She shook her head. "Nothing."

Benj tugged on his sleeve. /Is that bad?/ He kept his hands close to his body, shielding his words.

"It's not standard procedure," he said, shifting his weight, his ankle starting to twinge again. "He's a police witness. There should be a list of approved visitors."

"And instead they j.. just gave you his r.. room number." Sunny's voice was flat, suspicious. Three sets of eyes turned to Joe. "S.. so n.. now what do we d.. do?"

"Give me a second." Joe passed a hand over his eyes, his desire to find out what was going on with his brother warring with the need to keep them out of sight, to keep them safe from... _Well, whoever it is that was chasing us._ He let out a sigh, almost hearing Frank's voice in his head telling him not to be an idiot, that getting the kids to safety was more important than worrying about him. _You're right, 'bro. As usual._ "We find Kara." Sarah and Sunny's eyes darted away from his to share a quick glance. He waited a second, the looked from one to the other. "All right, what did I just miss?"

"We think you should go see Frank," Sarah blurted out. Sunny and Benj nodded in agreement. "You've done an impressive job of not freaking out," Sunny snorted, and Benj jabbed his elbow into her ribs, both actions earning a glare from Sarah, "but you need to make sure he's all right. That was the point of coming here, right? And think how much more focused you'll be once you've seen him."

"What do you mean '_more_ focused'?" Joe's voice rose, attracting the attention of a family standing nearby. Sarah raised an eyebrow at him. He ducked his head down, muttering "Point taken." Looking around, he found an unoccupied couch on the other side of the large room and started limping over to it, indicating they should follow.

/Are you all right?/ Benj sat next to him on the couch. The girls stood in front of them, shielding them from view. /Your ankle's bothering you again, isn't it?/

"Bandage is loose. I just have to rewrap it," Joe said, leaning over and taking off his sneaker. He removed the bandage and held it in his hand, thinking.

"Joe." Sarah placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll head straight for the security office and tell them who we are. That Amber Alert's been all over the news. Even if they don't recognize Sunny and Benj from the pictures, they'll know who they are as soon as we say their names. You check on Frank and meet us there. We'll be apart for, what, five minutes? Maybe ten."

Benj waved his hands to get their attention. /I want to go with Joe./

"Can we hold on for a minute?" Joe put his hands up, stopping the conversation. "I haven't said yes to this. We don't even know where the security office is."

"We'll ask." Sunny leaned down, her hands on her thighs. "It's w.. worked for everything else s.. so far."

Joe put his head in his hands. He could feel a headache coming on and his unwrapped ankle was throbbing in time with his heartbeat. "I don't like this," he muttered.

"Our other option is to all go to security together," Sarah said. Joe looked up. "And as soon as we tell them who we are, what do you think the chances are that you'll get to see your brother any time soon?"

Sunny nodded in agreement. "You heard the n.. news stories. They m.. might think y.. you were the one who p.. put him here."

"Not once Kara..."

"_If_ she's here," Sarah interrupted, "and not out looking for _you_."

A minute passed, then two, then three as Joe stared at them, different scenarios running through his head. Finally, his shoulders slumped forward. "Fine. I'm not happy about this, and I'm not saying that you're right, but fine. Keep your eyes open, and stay safe." He lifted his head, his expression hardening, steel in his eyes. "One warning. If I get to the security office, and you're not there, I'm having them lock down this entire facility. And when I find you, I'll..."

"You'll what. S.. spank us?" The argumentative tone was back in Sunny's voice.

Joe simply raised an eyebrow in answer. Sunny gulped, then turned to Sarah. The older girl locked eyes with him. "We'll be careful." Then they turned and blended into the crowd.

/Would you really do that?/ Joe caught Benj's words from the corner of his eye as he replaced the bandage on his foot.

"Let's hope we don't have to find out." He slid his foot back into his sneaker and stood, slowly shifting his weight, testing his ankle for pain, breathing a sigh of relief when all he felt was a slight twinge. "Good enough. Let's go."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Shit." The muffled word roused Frank from the doze he'd finally fallen into after forcibly shoving aside his memories of his time in captivity. "C'mon, Kara, pick up. _Shit_." Frank cracked open one eye and caught a glimpse of Travis exiting the bathroom, cell phone in hand. "Frank, you up?" Slipping the phone back in his pocket, the agent looked up, his face a study in consternation. "There's a report that someone spotted one of your kids here at the hospital. They figure the other one must be here, too. They can't get Kara, and I'm the only other one here who can make a positive ID. They're heading for the Pediatric ICU. It's just one floor down. You be okay for a minute or two?"

"Sure." The word sounded slurred in Frank's ears. He shook his head, trying to clear out some of the fuzziness he felt, and winced at the stabbing pains that shot through his skull. A hissing noise escaped from his between his lips.

"Frank? Are you all right?"

Concern and command were evident in Travis's voice, and Frank immediately knew what that meant. He didn't trust Frank's ability to take care of himself. An irrational anger surged through his breast. "I'm _fine_," he snarled, ignoring the small, lucid part of his brain that disagreed with the statement.

Travis's expression hardened. "Forget it." He flipped his cell phone back open and started punching numbers.

Frank took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, then pushed himself up to a sitting position. "Travis." The agent stared doggedly at his phone. "_Travis_." The man looked up. "I'm sorry. I'll be okay. Really." He could sense Travis's resolve wavering. "Go see if it's them." He swallowed hard, having to work around the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. "Maybe they'll know where Joe is."

Travis held his eyes for a long moment, trying to gauge Frank's mood, then nodded and rushed from the room.

Frank sat for a moment just looking at the door before slowly lowering himself back to the pillow, his head swimming. He'd been moving around too much, and now he was paying for it. Once down, he closed his eyes again gratefully, the physical exertion and the sudden shifts in emotion leaving him spent. He could feel sleep starting to overtake him again and struggled against it. _Not now. Have to stay awake until..._

The sound of the door opening barely registered in his ears. The voice did.

"G-d... Frank."

It was both familiar and rough with an emotion he couldn't quite put his finger on. Was it grief? Guilt, maybe? Neither seemed quite right.

Every instinct screamed at him to open his eyes, to move, to do _something_, but he couldn't. He'd pushed too hard over the course of the day, and his body was exhausted.

Something soft brushed his cheek, leaving the faint scent of bleach lingering in his nostrils. A lab coat? Something was placed on his forehead, then a feeling of something sliding over his eyes, his cheekbones, his mouth. Pressure followed, hands over his face, fingers digging into the bruises dotting the side of his face. His oxygen was being cut off, and this knowledge brought with it a moment of clarity.

_Not grief,_ he thought, trying to force his weakened body to struggle. _Not grief. __Anger__._

With a rush of desperate adrenaline, Frank managed to fling out his left arm, trying to make contact with the bedside table, straining to hear through whatever it was covering his head. A faint thudding sound came from the floor, a noise not loud enough to have been the table falling over, not loud enough to attract the attention of anyone walking by in the hall.

A roaring sound sound filled his ears, and his arm fell limply to his side.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

/Someone's in there./

They had made it to Frank's room without incident. Lights flashing at the nurse's station and people in scrubs scurrying around with pieces of equipment had provided enough cover to get from the elevator to the room unnoticed. Joe had placed a hand on the door, steeling himself for what he might find when he entered, when Benj had stepped in front of him.

"What?"

/I heard a noise. It sounded like a book falling./ Benj's dark eyes were wide and frightened. /If he's in a coma.../

The words cut off as Joe grabbed his arm. "Stay behind me."

Joe rushed into the room. In the dim light he could see someone lying prone on the bed covered by a blanket, one arm hanging over the bed rails. Standing by him, back to the door, was a figure in scrubs leaning over the b... – _Not the body, _he told himself, _the patient_ – holding something near the patient's face. A pillow. _Not near. Over..._ "Frank!"

Almost without looking, the figure leaned farther over the bed and kicked back with one leg. Joe leaned to the side, just managing to avoid getting a steel-toed boot in the ribs, and dived to the floor, wrapping his arms around the man's legs, forcing him to the ground. The attacker twisted in his grasp, and brought his arms down, grinding a fist into one of Joe's kidneys. As he let out a groan, he heard a sharp intake of breath from the doorway. A quick glance showed Benj backed up against the wall, shaking.

The attacker turned, showing Joe a flash of green eyes in a bearded face – _Why does he look familiar? __– _before striking out again with his fists. Joe dodged one punch, sending his own fist flying toward the man's jawline. As the attacker stepped back to avoid the hit, Joe reached back with one hand and yanked the pillow off his brother. He couldn't tell if Frank was breathing or not, but couldn't stop to check. The man was coming toward him again. From the corner of his eye he saw Benj's hands moving, forming the same word over and over.

/Brother./

Joe felt his face burn. "_This_ is your brother?" He lashed out again, this time connecting with the man's chin. He watched with satisfaction as the man stumbled back.

"Not everyone can have a perfect family, Joe," the attacker said, wiping at the trickle of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. "Some of us get stuck with unwanted baggage." He threw a hate-filled look at Benj.

"How do you know my name?" Joe's eyes narrowed. Something in the man's voice struck a chord in his memory, a picture Frank had hanging on his wall. _Green eyes. Get rid of the beard. Cut the hair..._ He staggered back a step. "Roger?"

A fist flashed toward Joe's face. "Long time, no see." He stepped closer. "I'm sorry about your brother, but he got in my way."

A red haze clouded Joe's vision. "You're _sorry_? Frank was your friend! And you... And you..." Words failed him. He threw himself at Roger, no longer thinking about anything but hurting the man who had injured his brother.

The fight was short. At first, Joe's rage enabled him to corner Roger, kept him from hitting back, but he had forgotten about the steel-toed boots. A well-placed kick at his injured ankle, dropped him to the floor, the pain running up his leg like an electric shock. Before he could react, Roger had him pinned, one arm wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air supply. Black spots danced before his eyes, but he could see Benj, still standing against the wall, seemingly paralyzed.

"Go. Run." His mouth formed the words, but no sound came out. He could feel himself slumping forward, blacking out. _I'm sorry. I tried..._

"No!" The tone of the voice was uncertain, but the words were sure. "Let him go!" Benj launched himself across the room, lashing out at Roger with both hands. Surprised, Roger's grip loosened, and Joe gulped in a mouthful of air, his head clearing as the oxygen filled his lungs.

"Yes. Let him go." An audible click came from the doorway. Joe looked up to see Kara and Travis standing there, guns drawn.

The growl erupting from Roger's throat was cut off as Joe's head crashed into his nose. "This one's for Frank," he said. As the man's hands went protectively to his face, Joe shifted, smashing one of his fists into Roger's unprotected stomach, hearing the air rush from the man's lungs. As he fell to the floor, gasping and wheezing, Joe leaned toward him and whispered, "And that was for Benj." Travis came forward, gun still drawn, and dragged him from the room.

Within seconds the room was full of activity. Doctors and nurses with various pieces of medical equipment that Joe didn't recognize swarmed the bed where Frank still lay motionless. Joe struggled to get to his feet, his ankle not wanting to hold his weight, his eyes unable to look anywhere but at his brother. He sensed someone standing next to him and looked up. Kara stood there, dark circles under her eyes, one hand sliding her gun into its holster, the other held out to him.

"Come on. Let me help you." She hooked an arm under his shoulders and pulled him to his feet.

"No." He shook his head. "I have to stay. I have to be here..."

Kara placed her hands on either side of his face gently turned his head so he was looking away from the bed. "No. You have to let the doctors do their job."

Benj ducked under his other arm, letting Joe lean on him as Kara steered them into the hallway. "Are you okay?" His hands signed the words as he spoke. "Is she...?"

Joe nodded. "Kara."

Benj looked from Kara to Joe, then back again. /She's pretty./ He cleared his throat. "Where's Sunny?"

"She's fine," Kara said, pulling over a wheelchair so Joe could sit. He sank into the seat gratefully. "She and Sarah are with the police. They're the ones who told us where you were." She leaned down slightly, moving closer to Benj. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." The boy took a deep, shaky breath and turned to Joe. /Why was Roger here?/

Joe translated the question for Kara. "I'm not sure," she said. "There's a lot we don't know right now." Then she smiled at him. "I do know one thing, though. Two things. You were very brave in there." He gave her a shy smile, his hands forming the sign for 'thank you.' "And there are some people here to see you." She indicated the hallway behind him with her chin. Joe looked over Benj's head and saw two people – a man and a woman – their arms extended, relief written large on their faces.

One glance was all it took. Benj sprinted towards them. "Maman! Papa!" The woman's face dissolved into tears as she hugged her son. Joe sat and watched the reunion until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Mr. Hardy?" Joe turned. This was a voice he had never expected to hear again.

"Dr. Finley?" The shock he felt came out in his voice. "What are you...? Is Frank...?"

The red-haired man smiled. "It's a long story. He's all right. You can go see him."

Kara squeezed Joe's hand and helped him up, wrapping an arm around his waist so he could lean on her as he limped back into the room.

Frank was still lying in the bed, but now his eyes were open, an oxygen mask over his face. He watched Joe's slow progress across the floor. "Should... get... that... looked... at." It took Joe a minute to figure out what he had said; the mask made him difficult to understand.

"So, you're _not_ in a coma." Joe was pleased he managed to keep his voice level. Frank shook his head. "And this stunt was – what? – to get the kidnapper out in the open?" A nod. "Idiot." This brought a small smile. Joe could feel his anger rising. "You ever do anything this stupid again, and I'll personally put you in a coma. Got that?" Another nod. He watched as Frank's eyes started to droop closed. "Get some sleep. I'll wait 'til you're more awake so I can yell at you some more." As he turned, Kara tucked herself under his shoulder again, helping him walk back out of the room.

"Joe." The word was so soft, he had to turn back to look at his brother's face. "You... would've done... same... thing..."

There was a long pause, then Joe snorted and raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Doesn't make it any less stupid." His expression softened. "Rest up, 'bro. I'll be back in a bit."

Frank nodded and closed his eyes.

"Idiot."

"Heard... that... little brother."

"You were meant to."

There was a brief chuckle, then silence. Joe let Kara lead him from the room.


	12. Twelve

_Sunday evening 5pm_

* * *

Joe sat slumped on a couch in one of the hospital's small meeting rooms, his leg propped up on a chair, listening as Kara caught him up on the events of the day. Benj, Sunny, and Sarah were with the Gardners, Travis, and what seemed like a small battalion of state troopers in one of the hospital's larger conference rooms. The officers had taken in both Kara's badge and her expression as she gripped Joe's arm and had wisely decided to interview him later. Chet, knowing that Joe and Kara would want to be alone, muttered something about heading back into Frank's room in case he woke up.

"What do you mean, all things considered?" Dr. Finley had insisted on getting one of the doctors to take a look at Joe's ankle and had ordered him not to move until the x-rays came back. Truth be told, he wasn't planning on moving. With Kara curled up under his arm, both her hands locked onto one of his, the only thing that was going to move him now was a bomb exploding under the cushion. For the first time in months he felt whole. "This whole thing was a sting, right?" He pulled Kara closer to him, resting his chin on her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo.

He felt her tense in his arms. Before he could say anything, she twisted herself out of his grip and turned around so she could see his face. "Yes. And no."

"Explain." He could hear an edge starting in his voice and had to remind himself to tone it down. _Whatever's going on here isn't Kara's fault._

Kara's shoulders tightened. "You're mad."

"I'm not mad... at least not at you." His left hand clenched into a fist. "I haven't seen Frank for... What? Four days? And when I finally locate him, I also find his college roommate – a guy who's supposedly been missing for the last five years – trying to suffocate him." He let out a frustrated breath, trying hard to lower his voice. "I just want to know what's going on."

She nodded, although he noticed she still seemed tense. "Did you get a good look at him while you were in there?"

"Roger? I was too busy trying to pound him."

"I meant Frank." Kara sighed when he shook his head. "You missed the bruises, then."

"Bruises?" He closed his eyes, trying to recall how his brother had looked when he had been in the room. The first time, his face had been hidden by the pillow. The second he'd been too busy focusing on the oxygen mask to notice anything wrong. "So the story was right? He was beaten?" A fierce anger welled up in his chest. _And __if it was Roger, I should have hit him harder._

"No." Kara reached out for his hand and took a deep breath. "As near as we can tell, he was pushed off the mountain."

"_What?!_" He jumped, the motion tweaking his ankle, pushing a stabbing pain up his leg._ "_Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure. The doctors said his injuries are consistent with what they've seen in other cases." She squeezed his hand gently, her eyes – brighter than usual – meeting his. "His GPS stopped transmitting. Travis and I traced it to the last known location. It took a while, but we found him." She put a hand up, stopping the question she knew he would ask. "And no. I have no idea how he survived the fall."

"How bad is he?" He sat, open-mouthed, as Kara listed Frank's injuries. "And he still pulled that stunt? Why? He's known Roger for years. He could have just told you..."

"No. He couldn't." She swallowed, and her eyes flickered away, a sure sign she hadn't shared everything with him.

"Why not?" He could hear the anger in his words but couldn't dampen it down.

"His memory's been affected."

"Affected," he repeated, his voice like cold steel. "Affected how?"

She cleared her throat. "According to Chet and Doctor Finley, things are coming back."

"Kara." The edge was back, and this time Joe did nothing to stop it.

"Retrograde amnesia." Her shoulders slumped, and again, Joe saw the dark circles under her eyes, could see how exhausted she was, and his anger dissipated like smoke. Whatever had happened wasn't her fault. "He lost five years. He didn't know what had happened. He didn't know where you were. He didn't know who I was." She paused, her breathing shaky. "I could see it in his eyes. He didn't recognize me at all." He could see the pain in her eyes, hear the disbelief in her voice. "And it scared the crap out of me because I'm to blame. I pushed you to take the case."

He reached out and pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her hair. They stayed like that for several minutes, until he felt her relax against his chest. "No," he said, lifting her chin with one finger. "That was Frank with his 'how would you feel if something happened to her?' spiel. All you did was bring your aunt to us. If you remember, I wanted to say no." He raised an eyebrow at her. "How is the Dragon Lady, by the way? I noticed she's not here."

Kara choked out a laugh and gave him a watery smile. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Unbalance me like that." She pushed the hair from his forehead and stroked his temple.

"It's a gift." He shrugged.

"You're not mad?"

Surprise coursed through his body. "At you? No. I'm going to need to have a serious talk with my older brother, though. If I hadn't shown up when I did..."

She put a hand over his lips and grimaced. "Don't."

"I know. Too close." Joe nodded. "My question's still valid, though. Where_ is_ dear, old Aunt Kay?"

"Last I heard she was on her way. As soon as I knew we had Sunny, I called her. She's probably upstairs with them now." Kara's face took on a pleading expression. "Give her a chance, Joe. She really was worried about her."

The snort left his nose before he could stop it. "Right."

"She was. Just like I was worried about _you._" Kara's head tilted to the side, and the look in her eyes was one Joe recognized. She reached her hands up to his his head, and...

A knock sounded. "Am I interrupting something?"

Joe looked up to see Chet standing in the doorway. Instantly he tensed. "Is Frank all right?"

"He's fine. The doctor came in to check on him so I thought I'd see how you were doing." Joe let out a relieved breath. Chet leaned against the door frame. "The Gardners stopped by." He paused, his eyes fixed on Joe's face. "They want to see you."

"What for?"

"They didn't say." Chet shrugged. "If I had to guess, I'd say they want to thank you. And possibly apologize."

Joe huffed out a breath. "No." His hands clenched into fists. "Their psycho son tried to kill my brother."

Chet's eyes flashed. "And if what I saw is accurate, their other son seems to worship the ground you walk on." He stood up straight, his voice taking on a note of steel. "How is _he_ going to feel if you won't see him?"

"Benj is with them?" Sudden surprise loosened Joe's hands. "Why?"

Kara touched his arm. "It's been several hours. The troopers must be done taking their statements."

"So, what do I tell him?" Chet's voice made it clear what he felt the answer should be.

Joe swallowed, the emotions of the past few days finally catching up with him. He remembered Benj's fear when talking about his brother, the hope – _No, the joy_ – in the boy's eyes when he had offered himself as an alternative. _If I turn my back on him, I'm no better than Roger_. "Send them in."

"Good choice." Chet nodded in approval. "Thank you for not making pull out the big guilt guns." He paused. "Because you know I would have." He leaned back against the door frame, deflating like a balloon. "He seems like a good kid."

"He is." Joe blinked hard and rubbed his eyes. "Thanks for reminding me."

"All part of the service," Chet said.

The weariness in his friend's voice worried Joe even more than the outward signs of exhaustion he was exhibiting. He looked up, trying to keep the concern he felt from showing on his face. "After you've passed on that message, you should go find a hotel room or something. You look like you could use some rest."

Chet raised an eyebrow at him. "Look, it's the pot calling the kettle black." Joe glared at him, all sympathy disappearing into indignation, as Chet stretched and snickered. "I'll sack out in Frank's room for a while. Just in case he wakes up and needs something. You can take over in the morning. I wouldn't mind getting home. Marisol's beginning to think I've forgotten about her." Then he turned and left.

Kara placed a hand on Joe's cheek. "You're lucky to have him."

"I know. I'm lucky to have you, too." He leaned over, placing his lips against her forehead, then drew her closer, tipped her chin up, and kissed her. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to have her in his arms, to slide his hands under the back of her shirt and on to her bare skin, to feel her moving against him... to have his head bounce against the couch's back cushion as she wriggled from his embrace, cell phone in her hand.

"Malone." She stood just out of reach, batting his hands away, as she squinted into space. "Tina, I can't... Can you say...? Tina?" There was a pause as her hand fell. "Damn."

"I'm dropping that thing in a sink full of water first chance I get." Joe's breathing was unsteady, his hands shaking. He wanted – no, needed, – to have her back in his arms. _Now_. "You know that don't you?"

"I'm still on duty, Joe," she said. "I have to call her back." She scowled at the phone. "And for the record? The first night you're off this case, I'm yanking the battery on it. That way I'll be sure we're not interrupted."

"I knew there was a reason I loved you." He indicated the door with his chin. "Go. Call her back, so we can get back to what we were doing." Once she was gone, he buried his face in his hands. With everything that had happened that day, it had slipped his mind it was _Sunny_ they had been hired to protect, not Benj. _Damn. And if Frank's out of commission..._

"Mr. Hardy?" The voice from the door was tentative. He moved his hands to see who was speaking. Benj's mother stood in front of him, uncertainty radiating from her like a beacon. Now that she was close to him, he recognized her from the photos Benj had on the walls of his room. "Yes," her head nodding as she spoke, "Frank spoke of you often." When she said Frank's name, her eyes welled. "We... we wanted to thank you. For taking care of Benj. For giving him back his voice."

"And apologize." This time her husband spoke, his voice deeper but no less certain. Joe could see anguish and relief warring for control of his features. "We had no idea Roger..." His voice cracked. "That he would even consider hurting Frank..." He turned his head away, his jaw clenched tightly.

Benj reached out and took his father's hand, squeezing it tightly before dropping it. "Papa?" Peter Gardner looked down at the boy. "It will be all right, Papa. Joe got us here in time." He spoke with a faint French accent Joe hadn't noticed before, his voice sure and certain. "Frank will be okay." He gave Joe a look of complete confidence.

"That's the plan, buddy." Joe tried to force a smile, but only managed a halfhearted grimace. He continued talking, hoping the boy wouldn't notice. "Are you heading back to school?"

"Yes." Emily Gardner stepped back and put her arms around Benj's shoulders. "We want things to return to normal for him."

"_Maman_." He squirmed out from under her hands, a tone of complaint in his voice. This time the smile that touched Joe's lips was real as he remembered using that same tone of voice with his parents when he was that age. Benj gave his mother a warning glance, then turned back to Joe. "You're coming, too, yes?"

The smile froze in place. "Probably not."

Benj's face fell. "Why?"

"I'm going to need to stay here with Frank until he can be released."

"I know. But later." The boy didn't look convinced. "Term's not over."

"Benj, we're still on a case." Joe tried to keep his tone gentle. "And when we're done with this one, we have others." He let out a breath. "We're not really teachers." He watched as Benj stiffened, his jaw growing tight, the light in his eyes dimming. "That's not to say there won't be time at semester break for a visit." The boy's face lit up. "If it's okay with your folks, you can come to New York for a week and stay with me and Kara." He looked at the Gardners.

Emily shared a glance with her husband, then said, "That's nice of you, but we don't want you to feel obligated..."

"I _want_ him to come," Joe interrupted. "I can't be much of a big brother to him if I don't get to see him." He heard Emily choke back a sob, and felt a momentary stab of guilt for whatever pain he might be inflicting on her. When she turned her head away, he looked to Peter. "I realize you don't know me, but you know Frank. Benj can stay at his place if that makes you more comfortable."

Peter Gardner put one arm around his wife's shoulders and the other on his son's. "We can talk about it."

"Papa!"

"We'll talk." His voice was firm as he spoke to his son, his manner more assured than it had been. He turned to Joe. "Thank you."

A blue figure appeared in the doorway behind them. "Mr. Gardner?" A trooper stood at attention in the hallway.

Peter bent down to Benj. "It's time to go. Tell Joe goodbye." Benj lifted puppy dog eyes to his father. "For now."

Benj broke away from his parents, ran to the couch, and threw his arms around Joe. "I'll get my folks to invite your folks for Thanksgiving. We can work on them then," Joe whispered. "Okay?"

The boy straightened, pulling his hands close to his chest, his dark eyes glinting. /Can we go to that chocolate dessert place?/

Joe nodded, mouthing 'You bet,' before clearing his throat. "When they let Frank out, we'll stop by and see how you're doing. You be good, okay?"

Benj flashed a grin, then wiped his expression clear and winked. "I will. Bye, Joe." He walked back to his parents and waved as they left the room. Joe kept his eyes on him until he was no longer visible, then leaned forward and covered his face with his hands.

"Ready to go?" Kara's voice reached out to him. He looked up, blinking in the light until his eyes focused on her. She held a pair of beaten-up wooden crutches in one hand and something small that he couldn't quite make out in the other. "Dr. Finley said it's just a really bad sprain. And that you're lucky you didn't do more damage to it over the past few days." She turned the crutches so the rubber stopper balanced on the floor. "These are loaners. We can stop at a medical supply store tomorrow morning and get you something better." Despite her obvious exhaustion, there was a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"That's all? I can go?" She nodded, the smile still evident. He narrowed his eyes. "What's in your other hand?"

"This?" She tossed it to him. It was a small, black plastic rectangle. "You're a smart boy, Detective. Try employing those great deductive powers of yours."

He knew he should know what it was, but he couldn't figure out where he had seen it before. He looked up at her and shrugged. "Some help here, Agent?"

The smile got bigger as Kara pulled her company cell phone from her pocket and showed him the empty slot where the battery had been. "That phone call? Tina works at the State Department." Joe sucked in a lungful of air, his eyes growing wide. "She just got word. The tests failed. The North Korean newscasters are reading it off the teleprompters as we speak." The phone went back in her pocket. "And I'm officially off-duty for the next forty-eight hours. So, unless you have other plans for the evening..."

Joe lunged for the crutches and stood, wobbling in place for a moment before getting his balance. "I just need to check in on Frank, and I'm yours 'til tomorrow morning."

Kara pulled his his face down to hers and kissed him, a serious kiss that made his heart pound and his vision go blurry. When she released him, he was breathing hard. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say that."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Monday morning 2am_

* * *

"_Roger?!" Frank blinked several times in rapid succession. The man holding the gun on him was older-looking, with a beard and scar on is forehead, but the facial features and the green eyes were unmistakeably those of his friend. He took a step forward, stopping when he heard an ominous click come from the gun. _

"_Well, well, well. Frank Hardy." Roger stood like a statue, the gun staying pointed at Frank's chest. "And the betrayals just keep coming." He chuckled, the sound humorless and cold. "Long time no see, roomie."_

_Frank lowered his hands. "What betrayals? My G-d, Roger, where have you been? I came back from that mid-term, and you were gone. The FBI came looking for you."_

_The hand with the gun shook slightly. "As if you don't know. You're here, aren't you?"_

"_I'm on a job." Frank took a step forward, holding his breath as he did. "But you know that, don't you?" He took another step. "You don't have to do this, Roger. I can help you. Whatever they're paying you isn't worth it."_

"_Paying me?" Roger shook his head in disbelief. "You really don't understand how this works, do you? Funny, given who you are."_

_Another two steps. _Just keep him talking, _ Frank thought. He was now within feet of his former friend. "You're not working for the North Koreans?"_

"_No. What would they want with the runt?" The hand with the gun dropped a few inches. "Are the North Koreans the ones funding my so-called parents these days? I sure hope not. The ransom'll suck in that case."_

"_Ransom?" Frank shook his head, trying to force the conversation to make sense. "If you're not after Sunny, then..." He forced his mind back to his last year of college, back to Roger's complaints about his parents, about family. Air rushed from his lungs as the realization hit. "Benj. You're not after Sunny, you're after Benj." He looked up. "That was why your folks needed money. They were adopting Benj."_

_Roger snarled, his face suffused with hatred. "Don't. Adopting implies he's family. He's not. He's _nothing_." The hand holding the gun started shaking again. "And now my _folks," _he spit the word out, his voice full of venom, "have hired _you_ to protect him. You were supposed to be my friend." _

_Frank took another step forward. He was now close enough to reach out and grab the gun in Roger's hand. "I am your friend. Put the gun down, Roger. Let me help you."_

_The gun shook as Roger looked at Frank, seeing for the first time how close he was. For the space of a heartbeat, Frank saw indecision in his roommate's face. Then Roger's expression hardened. "No. __They chose him over me. They owe me." He cocked the gun. "Sorry, Frank, __but __you chose the wrong side in this one__."_

"_Roger, please..." Frank put a pleading note in his voice and let his shoulders slump, feigning defeat, and watched as Roger's posture changed. The belief he hadd won was evident in his stance, and his hand relaxed ever-so-slightly. _

_Frank pounced, wresting the gun from Roger's grasp and throwing it to the side toward the edge of the cliff. Roger kicked out with a steel-toed boot, catching him square in the chest, cracking several of Frank's ribs, and leaving him gasping for air. _

"_Good try, roomie, but I've gotten better at this over the years." The green eyes narrowed and hardened, the final vestiges of the man Frank had known disappearing. He threw out a right hook that Frank just managed to avoid, but to do so he had to take a step back. _

_Ignoring the pain radiating from his chest, Frank kicked out, trying to push Roger's legs out from under him, hoping to send him to the rocky ground. He __connected with Roger's right knee, __succeed__ing__ only in pushing the man off-balance, __but it was enough. He scrambled backwards, __closer to the edge,__ trying to reach the gun before Roger did, reaching down behind him with one hand and cursing when he heard the metallic sound of the weapon bouncing against rocks on its __way down the mountain. _

_Breathing hard, he stood, fists __up, protecting his chest, looking at any and all options he had to get away from the cliff. The only one was through Roger__. _At least Joe got the kids away,_ he thought. _Sorry, little brother.

_Roger limped toward him, __rage covering his face__. "__You might have been my friend once. Now you're just collateral damage__." _

_Frank watched, waiting to see what his former friend would do. __He__ kn__ew__ the cracked ribs would lessen the power behind his punches __and __want__ed__ to make every movement count. Roger pulled something __small __from his pocket that Frank couldn't see and lashed out at him. __Automatically, __Frank put his arms up, trying to ward off the blow, __and __stiffen__ed__ as something attached itself to the skin on his wrist, his body jumping involuntarily as several million volts of electricity shot through him._

_There was a sensation of falling, of air rushing past him. __Through the __vibrations shaking his body__, h__e heard Roger's voice from far away. "__Sorry it had to end this way__, Frank." Then the __shaking stopped__ and everything went dark._

He started awake and lay still for a moment – heart beating, breath coming in gasps – before opening his eyes. It was obviously night time; the world outside was dark, the lights in the room were down, and the noise from the hallway was subdued. He let out a shaky breath and tried to calm himself down, surprised that no alarms had gone off, that no one had come to check on him, that Chet wasn't...

"Frank?" The voice was whisper soft.

_Anna's voice_, he thought. _I must still be dreamin_g_. _ _Because it's not possible_. S_he's in... _He concentrated for a moment, trying to remember what Chet had told him about her film, gritting his teeth and groaning when he couldn't. _Damn._

"Frank, are you all right? Do you need anything?"

His head swiveled to the side, sending shooting pains through his neck and shoulders. A woman sat in the chair on the other side of the room, knees drawn up to her chest, long, dark hair falling like a curtain over her face, obscuring her features. Even with her face hidden, he knew her, the resemblance to the figure from his drawing was unmistakeable. "Anna?" Frank closed his eyes and gently shook his head, trying to focus in the dim light. When he opened them, the figure was still there, the hair now pulled back from her face, her dark eyes wide and frightened.

"You..." she swallowed. "You know who I am? You remember me?" She spoke the words as if she were afraid of the answer.

"Yes." Her features relaxed. "Mostly," he qualified, needing to be honest with her, even thought he knew it might hurt her. He heard a noise, a sharp intake of breath. "I'm sorry. Some things are still a little fuzzy." He watched with concern as her head sank to her knees and held his breath as she trembled. When she lifted her head, he could see her eyes were wet with tears.

"When you didn't call Thursday night, I figured something had come up on the case." Her words were so soft he had to strain to hear them. "Then I didn't hear from you on Friday..." She wove a strand of long, black hair through her fingers, her eyes unfocused. "I _knew _something was wrong." Her hands fell, and her eyes turned toward him. "When I saw the newscast," she swallowed, "I thought you were going to die..." Her voice broke off.

Frank swore internally. "I'm sorry. I didn't think..."

She held up a hand to stop him. "Then I got here, and they told me about your injuries. And what happened... earlier." Anna's arms wrapped around her torso, as if she were trying to hold herself together.

"Anna, if I'd known it would worry you..."

"You would have done it anyway." The words were sharp, brittle. And true.

He bowed his head, seeing from the corner of his eye as Anna's head turned away. When she spoke again, it was to the door.

"I'm not Kara, Frank. I'm not strong like she is." She let out a shaky breath. "Even after what happened with Joe, I thought I could do this – be with you knowing _this _could happen – but seeing you like this... I don't know." Arms still held tightly against her body, she stood and walked to the door. "I'm sorry. I need time." There was a choked sob, then her hand reached out and grasped the doorknob. "I need to think." Before Frank could say anything, she was gone.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Monday morning 11am_

* * *

When Joe got to the hospital that morning, smiling and relaxed after his extended 'reunion' with Kara, he found Chet waiting for him in the hall outside of Frank's room, his expression bleak. Joe's stomach clenched. "What happened? Is he all right? Why didn't you call me?"

"He's fine," Chet said. "Physically."

Joe's good mood evaporated. "What the hell does that mean?"

Chet sighed. "Anna was here."

"Anna?!" Joe tilted backwards on his crutches. "How did she know where...?" He paused, Chet's exact wording catching up with him. "Was?"

"She stayed for an hour, maybe an hour and a half. She completely reamed me out. She wasn't very happy." Chet shook his head, disbelief written all over his face. "And less so when she left." He let out a breath. "It looked like she was crying."

"Crap."

"Pretty much, yes."

Joe indicated Frank's room with his chin. "Has he said anything about it?"

Chet raised his eyebrows. "Robot Man? No." His expression grew more serious. "Actually, he hasn't said much of anything at all. He's just staring out the window. It's eerily reminiscent of... Well, you know." Joe winced. Chet cleared his throat, grabbing his attention back. "Oh, and your mom called."

"What? How did she...?" He leaned into the crutches.

"The Amber Alert went regional. New England, New Jersey... New York." Joe watched as his friend sagged against the wall. "Because of it, the story about the beating got picked up as well. She recognized your aliases from the last time. She handled the news pretty well. She wants you to bring Frank home when he gets released."

"He's going to love that," Joe said, rubbing his forehead with one hand.

Chet shrugged. "I'm just passing on the message." He turned his head and looked at Frank's door. "It's probably not a bad idea, though. He's going to need someone around to take care of him for the next couple of weeks, and if Anna's not in the picture..." He wiped his hand across his eyes.

Joe nodded. "You're right." He gave Chet a long look. "You look done in. Why don't you go find a room somewhere and sleep until tomorrow. Then go home. I can take over from here. Besides," he flashed a brief smile, "I don't want Marisol coming after me with a baseball bat."

Chet smiled back. "Thanks. You're probably safe, though. She likes you." He pushed himself off the wall. "Call me if you need anything. I can be back in a couple of hours."

"I'll be fine." He watched his friend start down the hall. "And thank you." Chet put up a hand and waved. He stood in front of the door for a moment, then took a deep breath and entered the room, blanching slightly at what he saw.

Frank lay still in the bed, his head turned toward the window, his eyes staring at nothing, his face blank and expressionless. For a moment, Joe thought he was going to throw up; the image was too similar to the last time Frank had been in a hospital bed. He clenched his teeth and breathed in through his nose, trying to keep his breakfast where it belonged. After a minute or two he was able to relax enough to talk.

"How you doing, 'bro?"

To his relief, Frank turned and looked at him. "I want to go home." He sounded like a petulant five-year-old.

Joe gripped the handles of his crutches and counted to ten. _I need to cut him some slack_, he thought. _If she broke up with him..._ He shook his head, not wanting to consider what it would be like dealing with his brother's recovery if that had happened. Frank wasn't the best patient to start with, and if he was hurting in other ways... _It'll be like having a ticking time bomb on our hand__s. _

"Not yet. The docs want to give you another day or two just to be safe."

"I'm fine, and we have a case we're working on." Frank growled out the words.

"No, you're not, and no, we don't." Joe noted with satisfaction that this attracted his brother's attention. He swung himself over to the chair by Frank's bed and told him of Kara's call from the State Department. "So, it looks like we're off the hook. Sunny's safe..." A look of confusion appeared on Frank's face. "The girl we were hired to protect?" Relief filtered through him when Frank nodded. "Anyway," he continued, "once you're free to go, we still need to stop at the school and get our things."

Frank turned back to the window. For a long minute, he just sat staring, then he purposefully closed his eyes, as if he didn't want to see Joe's face. "Chet told you?" His voice was quiet, almost matter-of-fact, but Joe could hear the pain underlying the words.

"Yeah." Joe could feel his face burning. "Do you think...?"

"She'll be back?" A pause. "I don't know." He opened his eyes, and Joe could see the anguish in them. "I think I screwed up."

Joe sat back, blown away by the admission. Frank never admitted to being wrong. He swallowed. "I'm here if you need me. You know that, right?"

"I know." Frank took a deep breath and turned back to the window. "I know."


	13. Thirteen

_Tuesday Morning 9am_

* * *

Frank's reaction when he found out that going home meant going to Bayport had been predictable. Initially, he had been pleased the doctors weren't making him stay any longer... right up until the moment he realized home hadn't meant Manhattan. First he got quiet, and Joe could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Then the arguing started.

What Joe found most disturbing wasn't the argument itself – he would have been worried if Frank _hadn't_ argued with him – but rather its disjointed nature. During the hour-long discussion, Frank alternated between his normal cool logic, rage, and tears. The changes between the three happened almost instantaneously and really freaked Joe out. It had been a long time since he had seen his brother unable to control his emotions, and watching his brother's loss of control was disconcerting. Usually the problem went in the other direction; trying to get Frank to show emotion was somewhat akin to pulling teeth.

For his own sanity, Joe knew he needed to put a stop to the discussion. He cut across Frank's words. "You want to go home? Fine. Answer one question correctly, and I'll call Mom and tell her you're not coming."

Frank stopped in mid-rant, his eyes wary, his face lined and pale. "Really?"

"Really."

His brother's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's the catch?"

"No catch." Joe swallowed, unsure what he wanted more, for Frank to answer the question correctly – which would mean he would be alone during the days – or for him not to. He leaned forward watching his brother's face intently. "What's your address?"

"My address? Twenty-three Elm Street." There was no hesitation, no uncertainty in Frank's voice.

"Not your apartment, 'bro. That's Mom and Dad's."

The triumph faded from Frank's face. "Right." His voice sounded bleak. "Hold on. I know this." Joe watched his brother concentrate, his eyes going distant as he struggled to remember the answer, then closing as he fell into an exhausted sleep, the information still out of reach.

Joe ran a hand over his face, then reached down to grab his crutches. Seeing Frank like this left him more shaken than he wanted to admit, but he knew he needed to calm down. Dr. Finley had said Frank could be released in the afternoon, and he had an errand to run before then.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Being back on Pocumtuck's campus felt strangely calming after the events of the last few days, and Joe found himself regretting that they weren't coming back. He had enjoyed both teaching more than he ever thought he would, and being with the kids made him think about what his and Kara's future might hold. An image flashed in his mind of Kara chasing after a small boy with blonde hair and brown eyes. _Not that we've talked about kids. _A small frown formed on his face. _Or marriage, __for that matter__. _

"Joe!" The voice broke him from his reverie. He looked around and saw Sarah jogging toward him, a bookbag sliding down her arm. "It _is_ you. What are you doing here?"

He smiled at her. "I should be asking you the same question. I work here. At least I did. How about you?"

"Now, I work here." Her blue eyes danced as she spoke. "Since this is my second year here, and I know the kids, Headmaster asked me to take over as the fitness instructor. He wants me to stay on after I graduate."

"Are you going to do it?" He couldn't think of anyone more perfect for the job.

"I'm thinking about it." She bounced on the balls of her feet. "Having a job lined up before I graduate would be great. And since it comes with room and board, I can save my salary for grad school."

"Congratulations, Sarah. You'll be great."

"Thanks," she said, shifting the backpack back on to her shoulder. "I've got to head back to campus. I've got class in a bit, and I need to change. It was good to see you."

"You, too." Joe shifted on his crutches, watching as she walked away. "Sarah!" She turned back to look at him, a questioning look on her face. "Thank you. For everything." She waved once, then continued to her car.

He watched until she drove away, then made his way to the residence hall where he and Frank had been living. With the students in class, the hallway was quiet, deserted, and lonely. He stopped, noticing with alarm the door to their suite was cracked open. Slowly, he slunk against the wall, cursing the crutches that hampered his movements.

"If you're trying to sneak in without being seen, you're doing a lousy job." Ekaterina's voice came from inside the suite. "I could hear you from the second you opened the door." It was probably the most words he had ever heard her use at one time.

Joe used one of the crutches to push the door all the way open. Ekaterina sat on the couch, folding laundry – Frank's laundry from the look of it – into an open trunk. A second trunk sat by the television set, closed and locked. "What's going on here?"

Ekaterina looked at him, her expression clearly indicating her opinion of his intelligence. "They told us you were a detective." Her blue eyes moved back to the shirt in her hands. "Figure it out."

"You've packed up our belongings." He swung himself over to the couch and sat next to her. "Why? That's why I'm here."

She looked at the crutches then swept her eyes down to his wrapped ankle. "It would take you too long, and I can't move my things in until all yours are gone. The couch isn't that good for sleeping." Another shirt was added to the pile, followed by several pairs of socks. "Don't get any ideas about this being payback."

Joe nodded. "So noted. Can I ask a question?"

"You can _ask_."

"That was some move you used on that guy – Illiya? – the other night." He shifted to take the weight off his ankle. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

She snorted. "You realize you aren't enhancing your reputation here." The last of the laundry went into the trunk. "I was on the Russian Junior Judo team before..." Her expression hardened, and she slammed the trunk closed. "Before we moved to the US."

"You've obviously kept up with your training." Joe leaned forward. "And Illiya?"

"We used to spar together. He'll be graduating soon, and his visa will be up. He wants to stay in America, so he asked me to marry him." She let out a breath. "I told him no. He keeps asking. I keep telling him no." A small bitter smile formed on her lips. "Then I toss him to the ground. That part is almost enjoyable." She turned to face Joe, the smile gone. "Just because I told you this doesn't mean we're friends."

Joe's lips twitched. "No. Not friends. Got it." He reached for the crutches and lifted himself to a standing position. "I'll check the rooms to make sure you got everything."

Her eyes narrowed. "Everything has been packed. Don't you believe me?"

"I'm a detective." Joe grinned broadly. "I need to see evidence with my own eyes. Besides, Frank would kill me if anything of his got left behind."

"Whatever." She pushed herself off the couch, muttering something in Russian as she stood. "Make sure this stuff is gone when I get back." She swept out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Headmaster Whitman was waiting for Joe in his office. "Are you sure you won't stay for lunch?"

Joe shook his head. "I can't. I have to get back to Frank, and I'm not sure it would be a good idea."

"For whom? The kids?" The man's expression showed surprise.

"For me. I might not be able to leave."

Whitman smiled, the surprise giving way to understanding. "It's hard to let go, isn't it?" Joe nodded. "I understand. I feel the same way every year at graduation. It's hard to know I won't see them every day again."

There was one thing Joe did need to know. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "How's Benj doing?"

"He's still with his parents." Joe's head jerked up, and the headmaster put up a hand to stop the question he could see forming. "He's coming back next week. The Gardners have decided to keep him enrolled." The man smiled. "Actually, I think Benj decided to stay enrolled and worked at them until they agreed. He didn't want to leave Sunny."

"Good." Joe let out a breath. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine. Kay was here when she returned." Whitman shook his head. "I don't think I'd ever seen her hug her daughter before. Not even at John's funeral." He put his hands down flat on his desk. "The miracle is that Sunny hugged her back." He shrugged, then lifted his right hand, holding it out to Joe. "Thank you for taking care of our students."

Joe took the man's hand and shook it, then turned to leave. When he got to the door, he turned back. "Headmaster, I still have some cameras here that I'll need to collect. When Frank is recovered, do you think we could make a trip up here to do that?"

The headmaster smiled. "Of course. We'll be happy to see you. All of us."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

After getting the trunks in the car, Joe stopped for a moment to catch his breath and take one last look around. He heard the tapping of the cane before he heard the accented voice.

"Miller?"

Sighing, he turned toward the speaker.

"What do you want, Phillip? And it's Hardy, not Miller."

"Then it's true?"

"That we're detectives? Brothers? The _good_ guys?" Joe's hands squeezed the handles of his crutches turning his knuckles red then white. "_Yes. _All of it_._"

Phillip's steps faltered, his face a study in misery. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I thought..."

"I know what you thought." Joe didn't even try to mask the anger in his voice. "You were wrong."

"Will he be all right?" Phillip's voice was a whisper.

Joe swallowed. "I hope so." A noise came from the path behind Phillip – the whirring noise of Melissa's wheelchair. As he watched, she raised a hand in greeting to him. He nodded back to her.

Phillip's head swiveled as the noise registered with him. "Lunch must be over. I must get to my class. The students will be waiting." He paused, turning his head back toward Joe. "Please give your brother my apologies. I was only trying to protect the students." His cane tapped on the ground as he turned to leave.

Joe swore under his breath. "Phillip." The man's head turned to the side. "I'll pass on the message."

Phillip bowed slightly then continued down the path.

When he and Melissa were no longer in sight, Joe got into the car. He had to get back to his brother.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Early November_

* * *

On his third day home, Frank finally managed to get up and have breakfast with his family.

He had spent most of the first two days sleeping on the couch. Laura had taken one look at him as Joe and Kara helped him into the house and announced that stairs were out of the question. Initially, Frank hadn't been pleased to be out in one of the more public areas of the house, but after the first night's nightmares, he was glad to be farther away from his mother's sensitive ears.

Realizing it had been Roger who was behind the attempts on his life had broken the block on his memory, and now he was suffering from memory overload. The first few days following the attack, memories had started trickling back into his brain slowly; gradually they picked up speed, over time becoming a deluge. Awake, images, names, and events flooded his mind; asleep, he relived every traumatic event he had experienced over the last five years – the bombing of the comic book store, his captivity in Hansen's basement, Joe in hospitals with wounds of varying levels of severity, Anna motionless in the greenhouse, her words from the hospital.

As he hobbled into the kitchen that morning, he could feel the three sets of eyes watching his progress. Laura immediately jumped to her feet and pulled out a chair for him, while Fenton rose and got him a cup of coffee. Aunt Gertrude sat, watching with narrowed eyes as he seated himself in the chair, then handed him a plate of toast. "You're too thin," she said. "This afternoon I'll make some of those ginger cookies you're fond of. That will help."

Fenton threw her an amused look, then picked up his newspaper. "You always think they're too thin, Gertrude." He turned to Frank. "So, son, you've been asleep so much we haven't had time to talk, and your brother was a little short on details. What exactly..."

"We'll have plenty of time for that later," Laura interrupted, glaring at her husband. "He'll be here for at least another week. This is the first morning he's been able to join us. Let him eat his breakfast in peace, Fenton. You can talk to him about the case later." She laid a hand on her husband's shoulder, and Frank could see her mouth the words "If he's up for it."

Fenton nodded and ran his eyes over the front page of the paper to cover the motion. "Will we be seeing Anna any time in the near future? She should be done filming soon. Where was she? Paris?" He folded the newspaper and reached across the table for the butter. "I like that girl."

"You've liked all girls our sons brought home." Laura laughed and took the butter dish out of his hand. "They both have excellent taste in women." Her brow furrowed. "Although, now that I come to think of it, there were one or two that Joe... Well, he has Kara now, so it doesn't matter." All three adults looked at him expectantly.

Frank's throat went dry. "I don't think..." He looked down at the mug he held between his hands and let out a breath. "She..." He couldn't make himself say the words. Beside him, his mother's face softened, understanding and sympathy evident in her expression. He pressed his lips together and turned his head away, a telltale stinging in his eyes. _Damn concussion_,he thought, lifting a hand to rub at them._ Get some _c_ontrol, Hardy._

There was the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, the scent of his mother's perfume as she leaned up against him. "I'm sorry, sweetie."

Aunt Gertrude sniffed. "Thought the girl had more gumption than that."

Frank pushed his chair away from the table, grabbing his cane as he stood. "I'm not really that hungry," he said, his voice leaden and toneless. "I think I'll go lie down again." He heard his father say something to his aunt in a harsh voice. The words were unintelligible, but the meaning became clear at her response.

"I would never hurt either of those boys, Fenton," he heard his aunt say as he lowered himself on the cushions, "but I'm also not going to censor my opinion. If she's let him go, she's a fool. Now, please pass the toast."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Joe sat at his desk, eyeing the pile of documents requiring his signature with trepidation. Initially he was tempted to sign them all without reading them but figured Chet would guess what happened if it took too short a time. _With my luck one of them will have something to do with the one case Frank remembers._

His parents called every day to update him on his brother. Things were going about as well as Joe had expected. Frank was taciturn, unwilling to talk to anyone – even their mother – about what he was feeling, and was suffering from nightmares. On the plus side, his memory did appear to be returning. Their father had drawn on his vast investigative experience and his knowledge of his son to ask subtle questions about cases they had worked on since forming the agency and had reported Frank's answers jibed with what he himself had known about them.

About an hour into the stack, Joe stopped realizing something didn't look right on one of the final reports. Eyes still on the document, he picked up his phone. "Chet, can you bring me the Forrester file? I just want to double check something." Hanging up, he started reading the report again from the top. He heard the door opening and held out his left hand for the expected file. "That was fast. What, did you have it on top of your desk?"

"Mr. Hardy." The voice wasn't Chet's.

Joe closed his eyes, just managing to stifle the groan that threatened to escape from his lips. _Like I need this right now._He let out a breath and opened his eyes. "Dr. Park. What can I do for you?" The question sounded unemotional and definitely uninterested. He figured that was the best he was going to be able to manage. _At least I can tell Kara I was polite._

The older woman stood in front of his desk, looking at him as if he were a science experiment gone awry. Finally, she took the leather folder out from under her arm, pulled an envelope from one of its pockets, and placed it on his desk. "Your payment."

He stared at her for a moment before picking it up. He ripped the short end off and reached in with two fingers to pull the check out, his eyes widening at the amount. "This is more than our contract stated," he said, holding the paper out toward her.

"It will cover the unexpected medical expenses." She snapped the folder closed and tucked it back under her arm. "I understand your brother is recovering well."

"As well as can be expected." His patience was running thin. This woman really got on his nerves. "Good thing it wasn't Sunny the kidnapper was after, isn't it? Who knows what might have happened?"

A flash of irritation showed on her face. "You would have protected her. That is what you were hired to do."

"We were dealing with an amateur. Someone really good could have gotten past us. People – _kids_ – could have died." Anger was starting to run through him like a flame.

She looked at him, her eyes cold. "No one did."

He jumped to his feet, his body physically unable to stay seated. "This time. Becauseyou got lucky. What about next time?" He was shouting now but didn't care. "'Cause somehow I don't think the North Koreans are going to stop trying for that nuke."

"There won't be a next time." Dr. Park's voice was calm and measured, which only infuriated him more.

"Really?" Sarcasm dripped from the word. "Exactly how do you plan to guarantee that?"

She stood like an elegantly dressed statue, looking at him as if were an unruly child badly in need of discipline. "By donating my father's papers to the Physics Department at MIT." A slight frown crossed her face. "Keeping my daughter safe is more important than anything, and if I have to give up my father's research to do that, I will. It would be foolish to place her life in jeopardy for selfish purposes. I am many things, Mr. Hardy, but a fool is not one of them."

Joe sank back in his chair, surprise and shock stealing his ability to remain standing. "That's good," he choked out. "I'm sure Sunny will appreciate..."

"And I am sure she will not," Dr. Park said, "but it doesn't matter. She is the only family I have left." She let out a breath. "Good day, Mr. Hardy. Give my best to your brother." Then she turned and walked back to the door.

Joe rolled his eyes and turned back to his paperwork. _This almost looks good now_, he thought.

"Mr. Hardy." Joe's head jerked up. Dr. Park was standing at the door, her back to him, one elegantly manicured hand hovering over the doorknob. "You are impetuous. You speak without thinking and allow your temper to get the better of you, and I honestly believe Kara would be better off with someone of a different temperament. Someone like your brother."

"Gee, thanks," Joe snapped. "Fortunately for me, what you think doesn't matter."

"No, it does not. It is what Kara thinks that matters, and she seems to think you are worth fighting for." Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob. "To that end, I have told Liam he should give you a chance. _Use it well_."

The door swung open and she walked out without having looked back. Joe sat open-mouthed, not able to believe what he had heard.

Chet walked in, a file folder in his hand. "Here you go. I figured it made more sense to wait until she left to bring it in." He peered at Joe, who was still staring at the door. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Joe swallowed. "I think I am."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Mid November_

* * *

Frank was grateful when the days finally stopped blurring into each other. For the first week, alternating between exhaustion and pain, he had spent much of his time dozing, frequently closing his eyes for a moment and opening them later only to find several hours had passed. Now, the nightmares were diminishing, and he was more able to focus on what was going on around him.

It wasn't easy.

Between his still-aching head and slowly healing bones, his activities were limited, leaving him plenty of time to brood. Tony came by every day and sat with him for an hour or so, catching him up on Bayport news. After the first few tense minutes, he figured out someone – Joe or Chet most likely – had warned Tony against asking about Anna, and he was glad of it. Although he had started regaining some measure of control over his emotions, he wasn't positive he could hear her name without breaking down. Instead, Tony spent the visits filling Frank in on the doings of their high school friends who still lived in the area, several of whom had married and now had families. It was a welcome respite. He didn't have to search his memory to see if details were missing; he could just listen and relax.

Joe and Kara came on the weekends, sometimes bringing Chet and Marisol with them, and Biff stopped by once or twice when his work schedule allowed. These visits, while still welcome, served to underscore what he still had to regain. They did, however, prove to be useful distractions from the thoughts racing around in his head, mostly memories of Anna that ghosted around his dreams and left him shaken and heart sore. Sketching also helped, although each time he surfaced from the notebook Chet had left with him, he found most of the pictures were of Anna as well.

He had been there nearly two weeks and was standing in the living room, feeling alert for the first time in a long while, and deciding it was time to talk to his parents about going back to his apartment – while he now remembered his address and phone number, he knew it wasn't an idea his mother would approve of – when the doorbell rang. The unexpected noise startled him, jolting him from his thoughts.

"Can you get that, dear?" Laura's voice came from the kitchen. "Your father took your aunt to the library, and I'm up to my elbows in raw chicken."

Leaning heavily on his cane, he made his way to the door, growing annoyed when he found himself tired just from crossing the room. The sullen expression on his face changed to one of shock when he saw who their visitor was.

"Anna?"

She stood in the doorway, her raven hair pulled back from her face, a crimson-colored wrap around her shoulders that contrasted with her pale skin and accentuated her eyes.

The sight of her took his breath away.

Even with his memory returned, Frank was sure had never told her often enough how beautiful she was and how lucky he was to have found her. Now... _It might not matter. _He cleared his throat, trying to force his face not to show everything he was feeling. "Come in. Please."

"Thank you." She walked past him into the living room, her back straight. When she turned, he could tell the actress was in control; her expression was a carefully controlled mask. "How are you?"

He shrugged his shoulders, his breath hitching as a sharp pain stabbed through his collarbone. "I've been better. The recovery's slower than I would like."

"Frank, who...?" Laura entered the room, wiping her hands on a towel, freezing in place when she saw who it was. "Anna. Hello, dear." She nodded a greeting, her expression unreadable, then turned to her son. "Frank, I need to run to the store. I seem to be short a few ingredients for tonight's dinner. Do you need anything while I'm out?" He shook his head. "I'll be back in a little while." She grabbed a coat from the closet then headed back to the kitchen.

Frank waited until he heard the back door close, then took a deep breath and turned back to Anna. "Please. Sit down. Can I get you something to drink?"

After glancing at the cane in his hand and the sheets and blankets covering the sofa, she shook her head. "Thank you. No."

He waited a moment then slowly limped to the sofa and sat, feeling her eyes on every move he made. He swallowed. "How's the film going?"

"You remember that?" He was startled at how sad the tone of surprise in her voice made him feel. "We're done." She crossed the room and perched on the edge of the chair farthest away from him. Her eyes flickered from his face to the closed patio door leading to the back yard. "After I left..." She cleared her throat. "... the hospital, I went back to finish up. We got home yesterday."

"We?"

"Eric came back to New York with me." She still wasn't looking at him.

Alarm bells starting going off in his head. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath, a brief memory of the last conversation he had ever had with Callie fluttering through his mind. _She's __found someone else, as well_. _Two for two, Hardy, _he thought, the words giving him a different type of pain. When he opened his eyes again, she was looking down at the rug. He pressed his lips together and nodded once. "I see."

They sat in silence for a few moments, then Anna stood. "I can't do this, I can't..."

"Anna, please..." He put up a hand to stop her words and turned his head away, not able to look at her as he spoke, his eyes suddenly hot. _I__t's not her fault. I__ won't make this hard on her_. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then looked up at her. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean..." He stopped, unable to continue.

Her head tilted to one side, the mask slipping, a look of panic forming. "Why are you apologizing?" Her voice rose with each word.

"For not being what you need." He spoke through gritted teeth.

She sat back down slowly, her breathing unsteady. He could feel her eyes on him. "Frank?" There was a tremor in her voice as she spoke his name. "What are you talking about?"

His head jerked up, causing lights to flash behind his eyes. "At the hospital you said you needed to think. Just now you said that Eric" – he choked out the name – "came home with you." He gulped, trying to gain some measure of control. "My hearing's fine; it's just my brain that's not working so well right now." He could hear the bitterness in the words but couldn't stop it from coming out. "I don't blame you. I understand."

"No. You don't." She stood again, her hands fisting into her wrap. "You interrupted me. What I was going to say was 'I can't stand _this.'_" She gestured at the distance between them. "Your job can be dangerous, can do _this_ to you, and that _terrifies_ me. But not having you in my life... That scares me more." She took a deep breath. "I'm not strong, but I'll try. Being apart from you hurts too much."

"You didn't come to say good-bye?" His voice was a stunned whisper.

"No."

"But... Eric?"

Anna's head tilted to the side. "His sister lives in Brooklyn. We traveled together."

Frank stared at her for a moment. "He didn't come home to be with you?"

"_No_. He's just a friend. And I needed a friend. He was the one who convinced me not to give up on you. On us." Her hands twisted together. "He told me not to do something I might regret later."

Relief flooded over him in waves, the sensation immediately followed by a hot burst of remorse. "Anna, please believe me. I didn't mean to hurt you. Everything just happened so fast."

"It's all right." Her arms wrapped around her torso, and Frank could see her lips trembling.

"No, it's not." He opened his arms, hoping she would come closer.

After a moment's hesitation, she crossed the room, stopping just before she reached him. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." He reached up and pulled her down next to him, enfolding her in his arms, realizing in that moment just how close he had come to losing her. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Frank not wanting to speak until was sure he could do it without his voice cracking. "How did you find me?"

"I called Joe." Her voice was muffled by his sweatshirt. "He said..."

"No." He shifted her just far enough so he could see her face. "I meant when I was in the hospital."

Anna swallowed a few times before answering. "I kept calling your office, but all I got was voicemail." She grimaced, a look of frustration on her face. "I don't have Chet's cell, so finally, I gave up and called Marisol's salon. She told me where he was. And why." A breath. "I got on a computer and started running searches. When I saw..." A few tears slid down her cheeks, and she blinked hard several times. "When I saw the story..." She stopped, breathing in large gulps of air, and Frank knew she was editing the story so as not to cause him distress. "Eric found me. He packed my bag, got my plane ticket. He even called his brother to pick me up in Boston and drive me to Springfield. Then he informed Billy I was leaving and would be back when I got back."

Frank sat open-mouthed, listening.

"When I got to the hospital, Chet told me what had really happened." She took a few breaths. "Then he told me about your memory." More tears filled her eyes as she bowed her head. "I didn't know what to say, what to do." She looked away.

"Anna, I..." He shook his head in wonder. "You did all that for me? You're amazing."

"No. All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and try to pretend it didn't happen. That you managed to survive..." She shuddered and closed her eyes. "I can't even think about it." When her eyes found his again, they were more calm. "The important thing is you're okay. We can build new memories."

"Wait." Frank swallowed. "You need to know. I _did_ remember you." He disengaged her from his arms and reached out to grab his notebook from the table. He fumbled through the pile of drawings, pulling two from the stack and holding them out. "Even when I forgot everything else. I remembered _you_." He shook the papers in his hand, willing her to take them. "I did this one in the hospital."

Anna took them with shaking hands, then gasped. "Frank, they're beautiful."

"Only because you are." He took the drawings from her hands and placed them back on the table, then put his arms back around her. "Anna, I can't promise I'll never put you through this again. What Joe and I do... it can be dangerous."

She let out a bitter laugh. "You say that like something this bad happens with every case."

"Not _every_ one," he said, "but if you stay around me long enough, chances are pretty good..." He stopped, feeling the tension in her shoulders.

She let out a long breath. "How long are you planning for me to be around?"

"Forever." The word sprang unbidden from his lips, and he felt her freeze again, this time tension radiating from her entire body.

"Frank, nothing in my life is forever. I don't even know what forever looks like." She moved away from him, her eyes were both sad and frightened. "My parents, my jobs, Pierre... Nothing."

"Then just as long as you want to." He stopped, this time considering his words. "I don't have a lot of experience with relationships, but I know I want you to be in my life." He reached out and laid a hand on her arm. "I just want to be with you. In whatever way you're comfortable with."

She sat for a long moment, then leaned against him again, one hand reaching up and ghosting over the fading bruises on his face. "This is comfortable."

"Good." He sat very still, holding his breath as she inched closer. When she stopped moving, he put his arms back around her. "How's this?", he asked, feeling relieved when she nodded and relaxed against him, holding his hand in both of hers.

He had no idea how long they sat there. He didn't remember leaning back against the cushions, Anna still cuddled against his chest, or falling asleep, until the sound of the front door opening awakened him. He heard Aunt Gertrude's voice saying, "Fenton, close your mouth. You'll let flies in." A car door slammed shut, then more words. "Yes, Laura, she's still here." A pause. "Well, see for yourself."

Frank blinked, trying to focus in the late afternoon sunlight, groaning at the way his muscles felt, feeling Anna shift out of his embrace. When his vision cleared, he saw his father on his way into the kitchen with a bottle of wine, his mother following him, her arms full of grocery bags. She gave them a gentle smile. "You'll stay for dinner, yes?" Anna nodded, her eyes wide.

Gertrude calmly took off her coat and hung it in the closet. As she turned to go upstairs, she stopped and looked at Anna, her expression stern and satisfied. "I knew you weren't a fool." Then she turned and slowly started climbing the stairs.

Anna's eyes widened. As the older woman disappeared, she leaned over and whispered, "What did she mean by that?"

Frank smiled at her. "It means she likes you.".

Anna's eyes were still on the stairs. "Is it all right that she scares me a little?"

"I'll tell you a secret. She scares all of us." He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "You get used to it."

"If you say so."

Noises came from the kitchen. An oven door closing, dishes being placed on the table, the murmur of voices ending in soft laughter. A moment later, Fenton stuck his head into the room. "Your mother says dinner is in fifteen minutes." He smiled at them, the ducked back in the other room, the laughter picking up where it had left off.

Frank reached down for his cane and struggled to his feet. Once he was standing, he held out his hand to Anna. "Come on."

"Where?"

"The kitchen."

"Why?" Concern covered her face. "Your mother said we had fifteen minutes. You should rest."

He kept his hand outstretched. "You said you didn't know what forever looked like. I want to show you."

She sat for a moment, not moving, just looking at him. Then slowly, she reached her hand out towards his. Once their hands were connected, she threaded her fingers through his, stood, and together they walked into kitchen.


End file.
